


In His Rooms

by hikorichan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Complete, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance, Time Turner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 63,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikorichan/pseuds/hikorichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hermione Granger is given the opportunity to save Severus Snape, she willingly spins back through time to give him a chance to survive Nagini's bite. After all, he deserves it. And how hard can it really be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Little More Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Welcome to my newest fic, In His Rooms! As always, this fic is written in full and new chapters will be posted every 2-4 days. You need never fear this will be abandoned.
> 
> This is compliant through to the end of DH, but epilogue ignored. Rated M for a reason! Later chapters get very angsty/gory/sexy. You've been warned.
> 
> A big thank you goes to my beta AdelaideArcher, without whom I would still be spelling McGonagall's name incorrectly. Any errors are my own. Normal disclaimers apply (I don't make money from this; JKR owns anything you recognize).
> 
> As with most writers, I appreciate your reviews. Thank you in advance for your support. I hope you enjoy this one.

**In His Rooms**

**Chapter 1: A little more trouble**

"And quite honestly, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," said Harry.

 _The war is over_ , I thought, suddenly filled with a lightness I'd not felt in years. I turned to my best friends, Harry and Ron, standing next to me in the headmaster's office.

"Oh, Harry, it's finally over, isn't it?" I said with delight, giving Harry the biggest hug I could muster, before turning to Ron and hugging him too. And there we stood, smiling and exhausted, letting the calm wash over us, when Dumbledore cleared his throat.

I looked up at the old wizard's portrait, wondering if he was going to congratulate us again, or pass on some wisdom that would help us in repairing the world now that the war was over.

But instead, he said, "I wonder if one of you might be troubled for just a little bit longer."

"Excuse me?" said Ron. "Harry here just killed You-Know-Who. What else is there to do?" I wondered the same thing. We'd destroyed all the Horcruxes, hadn't we? Vanquished the Dark Lord once and for all? What else could there be?

"In your third year, you were able to save the life of an innocent man. I am hoping you might be willing to save another who did not deserve to die last night," said Dumbledore solemnly.

"Fred?" asked Ron, his blue eyes growing hopeful.

"No, Mister Weasley, I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore sadly. "Though I wish I could say otherwise."

"Snape," said Harry then, his green eyes staring at the pensieve.

"Yes, Harry, Professor Snape," said Dumbledore with a nod.

I suddenly remembered the man dying in the Shrieking Shack. It was only hours ago, but it seemed like a lifetime away. At the time, I still thought he was a traitor as I conjured the small vial for Harry to scoop up his memories, wondering what on earth he might have to tell us. But there was something in his dark eyes as he lay there, choking and dying, that told me perhaps I'd had him all wrong. Harry, of course, confirmed my suspicions before we'd run up to the headmaster's office. But I had no idea saving him was possible. He _was_ dead, after all, wasn't he?

"But he died, Professor, we saw him die," I said to Dumbledore, deciding to voice my concerns. "If we go back and try to save him, won't that disrupt time?"

I'd received quite the lecture in third year before getting my Time Turner about the consequences of playing with time. There were strict rules. Time wasn't something you messed with; you could fuck it all up badly if you weren't careful. Sometimes I remembered what we did at the end of third year and thought were were crazy and naive, but then, Dumbledore had put us up to it then too.

"You believe you saw him die, yes," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

"You mean he's still alive?" asked Harry, his eyes looking hopeful.

"That is up to you," said Dumbledore.

"Let's go," said Harry firmly, looking at me and Ron.

"No," I said firmly, the pieces of the puzzle falling together in my mind as they so often did. It had to be me, didn't it? Dumbledore had said _one_ of us, and I was the one with the experience, I was the one who wouldn't be missed if something went wrong.

"Hermione's right, Harry," said Ron. "He's not worth it."

Harry just looked at me with a shocked expression at my instant refusal.

"Did you not hear what Harry told us? He _is_ worth it, Ronald," I said crossly. "And that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, Hermione?" asked Harry, before Ron could argue.

"I meant I'll go alone," I said, looking at them both in turn.

"But Hermione, you can't!" said Harry, shaking his head.

"I can, Harry. You need to rest, and people will freak out if they find out you've gone," I said sternly, using my best do-not-question-me voice. No way would Molly Weasley let me live if she found out I let Harry or Ron get involved in some other adventure so soon after the last; it was bad enough she'd already lost Fred to this damn war.

"Then I'll go with you," said Ron. "And we'll save Fred too."

"No, Ron," I said. "I know it hurts—It hurts me too—but we can't save Fred. We were all right there when the explosion happened. It's just not possible. And you need to stay with your family Ron." I silently willed him not to fight with me just this once. Miraculously, he seemed to get the message, as I heard no angry response. Instead, his blue eyes grew exceptionally sad as he stared at me.

"I don't understand," he said. "Why do you have to go alone?"

As always, it seemed I'd have to explain things to my boys.

"It makes sense for me to go. I know how to work the Time Turner, I have no family to go home to—don't give me that look Harry, I know you haven't either, but you have the Weasleys—and Professor Dumbledore said one of us," I finished. _I am the most experienced, and the most expendable_ , I thought.

"He—what?" asked Ron, looking confused. I sighed, wondering for the millionth time if I was the only one who ever listened, and saw Dumbledore nod in affirmation above me.

"Yes, it should only be one of you," said Dumbledore. "And I agree that Miss Granger is the best fit for this mission."

 _Told you_ , I thought.

"I still don't like it," said Ron. "You deserve a break like the rest of us."

"I'll get it, Ron, just not right now," I said firmly. It surely couldn't take that long. Professor Snape had only been dead a few hours at most. I could last that long, especially if it meant saving him.

"And besides," I said, voicing my next thought, "if I somehow fuck up, and Professor Snape dies, the worst that happens is I end up right back here." _Or I could get myself killed, but best not to mention that._

"You don't fuck things up, Hermione, it's not in you," said Ron, and I couldn't help but blush at his confidence in me. "You'll do it."

"Thanks, Hermione, I—" said Harry, looking torn. I gave him a hug so he wouldn't have to finish his thought. I knew it would be hard for him to let me go; he was used to taking the lead in situations like this. But this time it was going to be Hermione, not Harry, who was the hero.

"I'll be all right, Harry. Please, don't feel bad. I want to do this. I can do this," I said, trying to reassure him. At least I knew he'd listen to Dumbledore.

"Miss Granger, you'll find a Time Turner in a compartment hidden below the top right drawer—it's locked," said Dumbledore.

Apparently there was no time to wait, so I followed his instructions, going to the desk and flicking my wand at the drawer. It popped open, and inside looked like a completely normal drawer, filled with scrolls and quills and bottles of ink. I took the pile of stationary out and placed it on the desk, but could only see flat wood—certainly nothing that looked like a secret compartment was below. Thinking quickly, I cast a Revealing Charm and an Unlocking Charm in rapid succession, and was pleased to see the dark wood melt away to reveal a black velvet box. I plucked it out of the drawer and opened it, uncovering a gold Time Turner that looked like the one I had as a third year student. I thought they'd all been destroyed in our flight from the Department of Mysteries, but maybe Dumbledore had been hiding this one away as a Plan B. And now here I was about to enact his plan.

"This one is a bit different, you'll find, if you look closely, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, so I investigated the gold loops and the tiny hourglass, and found that indeed there was a difference: the sand that filled the hourglass was a dark green, and the runes around the edges were not the same as my old Time Turner. I took a moment to decipher them.

"Sir, this doesn't go back by hours, but by _months_?" I asked, stunned. That couldn't be right, could it? Snape had only died three hours ago, and I was told explicitly in third year…

"But, sir," I said, voicing my concerns, "I was told that five hours is the maximum one can go back without harming oneself."

"Under normal circumstances, with a normal Time Turner, that is true," said Dumbledore, with that twinkle in his eye that said he knew something everyone else did not. Gods, how often I wished I had half the brain power of that wizard.

"But this isn't a normal situation or a normal Time Turner," I said, following his train of thought for a moment, and then stopping when I realized I had no idea why I would have to go back a month—or would it be months?

"How far back do I have to go?" I asked the portrait.

"Eight months should do it, I believe," said Dumbledore, and I couldn't stop myself from flinching.

" _Eight months_? Hermione you can't!" shouted Ron, turning towards with me and grabbing my arm, as if he could stop me.

"Professor Dumbledore, please explain," said Harry, looking concerned. I knew Harry trusted the old wizard, and I was trying my hardest to trust him as well with the knowledge I'd have to live the last eight months all over again in order to save Severus Snape.

"This is not a simple prison break scenario as with Sirius and Buckbeak," said Dumbledore calmly. "You will need to make plans, Hermione, and Severus will not be easily swayed to alter course—or to trust you."

I nodded. He was right, of course. It wasn't as if I could simply barge in and swoop Snape away before Voldemort killed him in the shack—doing so would likely mean my death as well, and maybe even the victory of Voldemort. I'd have to find a way for Snape to die, without him actually dying…

Suddenly I wasn't sure that eight months was really long enough.

"I don't need to remind you, Miss Granger, that no one must know you have gone back, and no one, not even Professor Snape, must know about your search for Horcruxes—it would put you, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley in great danger. You must stay hidden to all but Severus," said Dumbledore seriously. "The past cannot be altered, Miss Granger. Your memories must stay intact or I'm afraid I cannot guarantee a positive outcome."

"I understand, sir," I said, rummaging up my memories of Snape's death, as terrible as they were. I'd have to go through it all again… but at least the next time he would live, wouldn't he?

"You're really going to do this, Hermione?" asked Harry, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yes," I admitted with a sigh. "If he really did all those things you said he did, then he deserves a chance, don't you think?"

"You're right," said Harry. "He definitely deserves a chance."

"Do you need to leave right away?" asked Ron, looking worried, his hand still clamped to my arm. I glanced up at Dumbledore to be sure, but given the speed he gave me the Time Turner, I had a feeling I knew what his answer would be.

"Time is of the essence, as they say, when a life is on the line," he said.

I put the gold chain around my neck, an oddly familiar feeling coming over me as I did so. The Time Turner settled against my robes, and I turned to Ron, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"I'll see you soon, Ron, I promise," I said.

"Take this," said Harry, handing me his Invisibility Cloak. "Just promise me you'll return it."

"I promise," I said, and I understood he also meant 'promise me you'll come back.'

"Sir, I have one more question," I said, looking at Dumbledore, who nodded in response. "How am I supposed to make it look like Professor Snape has died, without him really dying?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Severus will give you that answer," he said simply. Well, I only hoped he was right. I guessed if not, I had eight months to come up with something.

"Well then, I supposed that's it," I said, putting the Invisibility Cloak in my pocket along with my wand and beaded bag. I looked at my two best friends, suddenly not wanting to leave them, but forced myself to nod at them confidently as I picked up the Time Turner.

"I believe you may want to go into the next room to avoid any unfortunate encounters," said Dumbledore, before I could spin the hourglass. "By the bookshelf, Miss Granger."

I turned my head to the bookshelf behind the desk and there it was: a door I never realised was there, carefully concealed with a charm to blend it in with the surrounding shelves.

"Eight turns, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore.

"I'll be back before you realise I'm gone," I said, hugging my friends one last time, trying to ignore the forlorn looks on their faces.

"Good luck, Hermione," said Ron sadly as he watched me approach the door.

"Be safe, Hermione," said Harry.

"I will," I said, pulling open the door. Beyond it was another set of spiral stairs, similar the the ones that led to the headmaster's office. I put my foot on the first step and felt it begin to move, spiralling me upwards and away from my friends, away from rest for another eight long months.

 _You can do this, Hermione,_ I told myself.

At the top of the staircase was a solid mahogany door carved with the Hogwarts' coat of arms, which I opened carefully to reveal a room that I could instantly tell belonged to Snape: dark green couches flanked the stone fireplace and a small potions lab was set up in one corner. There were two other doors in the room, which I could only assume led to a bathroom and bedroom, but I didn't bother to check.

_Time is of the essence when a life is on the line._

Taking a deep breath, I picked up the Time Turner once more from my robes. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew what I had to do: Severus Snape could not die.

I spun the hourglass eight times.


	2. Greetings, Headmaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support so far. Reviews are always appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta, the lovely AdelaideArcher.

**Chapter 2: Greetings, Headmaster**

 

I was glad that as the room reformed around me, Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen. I was in his quarters, after all; I had a feeling that popping in on him getting undressed or coming out of the shower would not have been a good way to start my task.

I looked around the room and wondered what to do: go and find him, or wait? In the end I decided it would be best to stay hidden under the cloak behind the couch near the wall, just in case Snape didn't enter his rooms alone. Of course, I had no idea what kind of private life the man led, but it wasn't worth the risk. What if he had secret Death Eater meetings up here? For my own safety, I certainly hoped not, but better to hide until I was sure.

An hour later Snape had still not appeared. Getting impatient, I calculated that it was probably around 6 o'clock in the morning, and I realized I had not slept in a very very long time. I leaned against the back of the couch because my back and legs were beginning to ache from sitting in the same position for so long, and shifted underneath the Invisibility Cloak to find a more comfortable position. I hoped Professor Snape wouldn't be too much longer. Maybe he was still asleep?

The next thing I knew, my eyes were flying open as the cloak was pulled away from me, and there was a loud shout of "Expelliarmus!" I felt my wand leap out of my pocket, and followed it to the long, pale fingers of the left hand of Severus Snape, who was standing over me with his wand drawn.

It wasn't the introduction I hoped for, but I scrambled to my feet, cursing myself for falling asleep. I could only assume I had moved in my sleep and become visible underneath the cloak.

"Miss Granger?" said Snape incredulously as I stood before him, a look of slight shock on his face. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" He looked around quickly, his eyes shifting to the corners of the room, and I knew he was looking for Ron and Harry.

"How did you get into my chambers? Where is Potter?" he asked swiftly.

"I am alone, Professor Snape," I said, stepping towards him. He took a step backwards and scowled at me.

"Then you are stupider than I imagined, even for one of Potter's friends," he spat. "How do you know I am not going to kill you right here?"

"Because I know you're on our side," I said with a smile, feeling more confident than perhaps I should have given the way Snape was glaring at me. But I saw his eyes flicker for a moment as I said it, and knew I was right.

"How do you know this?" he asked smoothly, lowering his wand, though he still held mine in his other hand.

"You told Harry, in the future," I said, figuring it was okay to be honest with him about travelling back in time; he'd know eventually that there was another me out there. I couldn't tell him what the other me was doing, but at least I could tell him this truth.

"That still doesn't explain why you are here. What do you want? If anyone found you in the castle—the Carrows—well, it would not be pretty; I could not protect you," said Snape.

"That's why I didn't go through the castle," I said.

"What do you mean you didn't go through the castle?" asked Snape, his eyes darting to the closed window, and then the fireplace.

"Well, I did in the future, but I promise, in this time I have not been out of this room," I explained.

As if on cue, the rising sun spilled through the window to my right, its golden rays landing on the Time Turner around my neck, making it glint in the light. I saw comprehension dawn on Snape's pale face, and then he looked up at me again.

"I am here to help you," I said, trying to look more sure than I felt under his scrutinising gaze.

"Help me? And who says I need help from you?" he snapped. "Leave and tell whatever meddlesome idiot that put you up to this that I am doing perfectly fine on my own."

"You are, and you will do fine for about eight more months," I said slowly. "Then you are going to need my help." _Trust me, please._

"Then why come now?" he asked, still sounding angry, but at least he was listening and not screaming at me to get out, which seemed the other likely option.

"Why don't we sit down and I can explain?" I asked, my calves starting to ache and the two couches looking terribly comfortable right then.

"You will tell me _now_ or I will hex you out of this room so quickly you won't know what hit you," spat Snape. _So much for being willing to listen_ , I thought. At least he hadn't just gone and hexed me without warning.

"That would not be wise," I said carefully, thinking I might as well drop the whole truth if it meant I could get him to listen to me, "if you plan on surviving this war."

"And what if I don't?" said Snape. I blinked, taking a moment to go over what he said in my mind. _No… no, certainly he couldn't want to die at the end of the war?_

"Professor," I said uncertainly, sure I had misinterpreted his words.

"I will be the master of my own fate," said Snape, his eyes flashing. "Go back to your own time, Miss Granger. You are not wanted here."

I couldn't believe it: the man honestly wanted to die. Was my rescue mission to end so quickly? No, I couldn't give up yet. I couldn't go back without really trying. I didn't need to listen, did I? He wasn't my professor anymore, and Dumbledore had said to save him.

"No," I said, drawing myself to my full height and jutting out my jaw. "I'm going to help you."

"I will not allow it," hissed Snape, closing the gap between us. I thought he might hit me then, but instead he grabbed the Time Turner and pushed it into my chest forcefully enough I had to take a step back.

"Go home, Miss Granger," he spat, staring down his long nose at me, his eyes the colour of the lake in the depths of a frozen winter night. I stared back at him, and noticed he looked tired: sweat beaded across his forehead and there were bags under his dark eyes.

"No," I said once more. This man needed my help. I couldn't fail him. He had no one else.

"Then I will force you," he said, grabbing for me once more. I ducked and ran behind him, and before I knew what I was doing I ripped the Time Turner from my neck and threw it on the floor with all my strength, finally crushing it under my foot.

Snape screamed behind me and I covered my face with my arm as spell hit a jar on the shelf behind me, spraying the room with tiny shards of glass. Then I turned back to Snape, who was shaking in rage on the other side of the room, his wand pointed at me once more.

"You stupid, stupid girl!" he shouted, his face contorted into a mask of purest loathing.

"I am _not_ stupid!" I shouted back, drawing myself up again, feeling frustration building inside me, bubbling like a hot spring in my chest. "In fact, it's clearly the opposite!" I shouted. Stupid, stubborn man!

"Excuse me?" asked Snape dangerously.

"You heard me! What kind of stupid man turns down help during a war? What kind of stupid man wants to die?" I screamed at him, refusing to back down. He wouldn't listen to politeness, so maybe he'd listen to rudeness; it was certainly the way he preferred to communicate.

Snape stared at me in return, his face now emotionless except for his burning eyes, and I realized suddenly that he did not know how to respond. I allowed myself a small smile, knowing this was my chance.

"Now kindly sit down so I can explain everything, or so help me God, I will make your life a living hell for the next eight months," I said firmly.

"What is stopping me from throwing you out right now?" asked Snape, making me want to scream and rip out my hair. _Why couldn't he just listen to me?!_

"You won't," I said, playing his bluff. No, he was on our side; Harry said so and Dumbledore said so. He would not throw me to the wolves now that I had no way to return home.

"How do you know that?" he said coldly.

"Because, as I said, you're on our side," I said, "and I trust you." It was true. Harry trusted him and Dumbledore trusted him, so I trusted him. I always had, hadn't I, except for the past year? Even when Ron and Harry were convinced he was evil, I knew Snape was a good guy; I knew it!

Snape glared at me once more, but the steam seemed to have dissipated from his frame, and I knew I'd finally managed to get him to listen. He flicked his wand and the glass shards disappeared, and then he lowered himself to the couch, perching like a bird.

"Thank you," I said, honestly relieved, and sat on the couch opposite him. I put out my hand, and he grudgingly gave me back my wand, which I stowed back in my pocket.

"Who sent you here?" he asked. "Who put you up to this?"

"Dumbledore, of course," I said. Wasn't it obvious? He was always the one with all the plans.

"But Dumbledore—"

"—is dead, I know," I said, interrupting him, "but his portrait hangs downstairs and still has more brain cells than both of us." Snape inclined his head, which I assumed meant to go on.

"Let me make this clear," I said, trying not to sound too bossy, "without my help, you will die a horrible, painful death at the hands on Voldemort in eight months. With my help, you have a chance to survive."

"And why should it matter if I survive?" asked Snape, without the anger in his voice this time. "I am not afraid to die."

His words made me suddenly sad. I knew what it was like to put your life on the line when it mattered, when you needed to fight, but to give in so easily when there was still a chance to live? It was beyond my comprehension.

"Because you deserve to," I said simply, deciding to be honest with him once more. "I know about your past, and no one deserves to live more than you, except maybe Harry."

Severus's eyes flashed again as I spoke about his past, but then his face returned to its emotionless countenance.

"What do you know?" he asked.

"I know about your childhood, about Lily, and the prophecy, how you begged Dumbledore to save—"

"Enough!" he shouted, turning his head to the side so his face was blocked by long sheets of ebony hair. I stopped talking, thinking this time I would give him a moment to calm down. When he said nothing after some time, I decided to speak again.

"Surely you must see how you deserve to live," I said quietly, praying he did.

"What I see is none of your concern," he replied, and I wished for a moment I knew Legilimency, so I could see what was going on in his mind. But I didn't, and I didn't know what else I could say to convince him he ought to try to live.

"Then we are at an impasse," I said, feeling somewhat defeated, but unwilling to give up all hope. I still had eight months to figure something out.

"So leave," said Snape. "Go and bother somebody else."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," I said. "Laws of time and all that."

Snape's brows stitched into furrows above his long nose.

"You're stuck with me, I'm afraid," I said, leaning back on the couch. _And I'm stuck with you._


	3. Stuck with Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for your support so far, and thanks as always to my wonderful beta, AdelaideArcher.

**Chapter 3: Stuck with Me**

"What do you mean, I'm 'stuck with you'?" asked Snape incredulously, as I lay on the couch across from him, feeling like I'd really like to have another nap.

"Well, unless you want to threaten the lives of Harry, myself, and Ron, and everyone else who is fighting this war, I am stuck here—with you, in this tower—for the next eight months," I said, not bothering to look at him.

I could see Snape massaging his temples with his fingers on the couch across from me.

"I am going to kill that old man _twice_ ," he growled, but I said nothing and waited for him to gather his thoughts and realise that he now had a roommate whether he wanted one or not.

"Fine. I see have no choice in this silly plan concocted by Albus and his little Potter—oh don't tell me Potter had nothing to do with it; I can just see it now, Mister Hero has the chance to save his poor old professor—I'm surprised he's not with you," hissed Snape, and this time I did look at him.

"I was to come alone," I said, refusing to rise to his bait. I was finished with arguing with the stubborn old man. I just wanted to sleep.

"So you do not deny that Potter's involved?" he asked, trying again.

"He is aware, but not involved, no," I answered honestly.

"I will not throw you out—for your own safety and that of others," said Snape, and I silently thanked whatever Gods were out there for finally getting him to accept me. "But if anyone finds you here or sneaking about in that damn cloak, I cannot promise to protect you."

"That's fine," I said, stifling a yawn with my hand. I didn't plan on sneaking around in the cloak anyway, unless it was absolutely necessary.

"You're tired," said Snape, the anger fading from his voice and turning into mere irritation.

"Oh, you know, just busy battling Death Eaters and killing an evil Dark Lord all night," I said sarcastically, and noticed Snape's body language change suddenly to one of intent interest.

"He's dead?" he asked quietly, his eyes wide, leaning forward in his chair.

"Well, in eight months, yes," I said with a smile. "Thanks to you and that little secret about Harry you carry—oh yes, I know about that too."

He stood up then and moved in front of me, tall, dark, and powerful as I lay below him on the green velvet sofa, and stared into my eyes. Suddenly I felt something in my head, and saw flashes of Harry and Voldemort casting at each other, Voldemort falling; then Dumbledore's portrait, asking me to rescue Severus.

"Sir!" I said, realizing Snape had just invaded my mind with Legilimency. I turned my head to the side, knowing eye contact was important, and felt suddenly violated. _He could have asked!_

"So you are telling the truth," said Snape smoothly, returning to his seat across from me.

"Of course I am telling you the truth!" I shouted, sitting up and glaring at him. _Could he not fucking listen? He was worse than Ron, for goodness sake!_

"Then why are you here? Coming back could ruin everything! All that matters is that the Dark Lord falls!" shouted Snape, shaking his head. "Stupid girl!"

"Stop calling me that. I am _not_ stupid," I said firmly, getting really angry now. _First he invades my mind without asking, and now he's insulting me!_ I stood up from the couch and marched over to him, staring at him right in those cold black eyes.

"I am not stupid and I will not screw everything up!" I shouted. "I do not plan to get in the way of what you need to do, only to help you live at the end."

"As I told you before, that choice is mine alone. I do not want your help," said Snape, his face emotionless as I glared over him.

"Well you have it," I snapped, feeling my temper flare once more and doing nothing to stop its fiery burn. "You may be too proud or bitter to accept it now, but I am going to help you, Severus Snape. If Lily were here, she—"

"Never speak her name!" he roared, grabbing his wand as he leapt to his feet, making me stumble backwards. "Get out!"

Snape's wand was inches from my face, his body not much farther, seething with anger, but I stood my ground. I was pissed off. Doing my best to look confident, I pulled myself up so I was looking at him eye-to-eye, and gritted my teeth.

"No," I said angrily, my voice close to a growl. "Call me a Mudblood, tell me to get out, hex me if you like, but I am not leaving."

I forced myself not to flinch as his face contorted in rage and he screamed, sending a red jet over my shoulder. I heard it hit the door behind me with a loud crack, sending splinters flying.

"Fine, then I am," he said, and with a billow of black robes he stormed past me and down to his office, slamming the door behind him.

I turned to face the door, which now had a deep gouge from Snape's spell, and I could hear him yelling at Dumbledore's painting. Their voices were surprisingly clear, and I wondered if some sort of magic was piping whatever was said in the office to the room. Some sort of security measure, perhaps?

"What the fuck do you think you are doing, bringing her here?" shouted Snape.

"Now, Severus, there is no need to yell," said Dumbledore calmly.

"There is every reason to yell! Am I not doing enough for you, I need some meddlesome brat to watch over me?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about," said Dumbledore.

"Don't lie to me! You told her to come here and help me!"

"Who is her, exactly?"

"Potter's friend Granger!"

"Ah, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore fondly. "If I told her to come here and help, then I suggest you let her do so."

"What can she possibly do to help me? I deserve to die after all this!"

"You cannot still believe that."

"Everything since I came to you has been for her—my death will be no different!"

"Hermione is far more talented than you have ever given her credit for, Severus. Surely, the brightest student that has stepped foot in this castle for some time—possibly since you."

My heart swelled a little to hear Dumbledore praise me, but my momentary pride was quickly turned back to anger by Snape's next words: "She is a bothersome know-it-all."

"Severus…"

"I have no use for the girl!"

"I think, in time, you may find her quite valuable." I couldn't see Dumbledore's portrait, of course, but I had a feeling his eyes would be sparkling in a way that said he knew something everyone else did not.

"Oh don't look at me that way, old man," growled Snape, and I smiled to myself, knowing I was right.

"Go upstairs and welcome your guest properly, Severus." Though his voice was light, Dumbledore said this in a way that meant it was not to be questioned.

Moments later, Snape opened the door to the room and shut it softly behind him. I waited. He took three steps, then stopped and massaged a knot between his furrowed eyebrows for several moments before sighing.

"From now on, you will stay in my chambers," he said, clearly irritated. "I don't care what you hear downstairs, you will never step one foot outside this door," he said, pointing at the door to his office below.

"Do not touch any of my potions, but you may help yourself to the books," he continued. "I will make a place for you, but it will stay hidden when you are not sleeping. If, at any time, I tell you to hide, you will do so immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," I said, feeling suddenly like I wasn't quite sure what I had got myself into. From his words, I would be more of a prisoner than a guest.

"As I see you have come completely unprepared, you will give me a list of the supplies you need," he said, summoning a parchment and quill and handing them to me roughly.

"Actually, sir, I have most things I need in here," I said, pulling my little beaded bag from my robes. "There are a few things I'd like, however, if you don't mind."

Snape continued to hold out the parchment and quill, and so I took them, going to the table to the left of the window to write. A mirror hung over it, and I could see Snape behind me with his arms crossed over his chest as I wrote: robes, pajamas, socks, hairbrush, shampoo, conditioner, razor, deodorant. I wondered if I needed anything else, but couldn't think of anything, so I handed the list back to Snape.

He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared.

"Headmaster Snape, sir," it squeaked, bowing.

"You will buy what is on this parchment, and bring it back here by tomorrow morning. You will instruct the elves to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner brought to my rooms for my… guest"—his eyes flicked to me with purest loathing—"You and the other elves will not tell a soul about this, nor that I have company in my rooms," said Snape. "Leave now."

"Yes, Headmaster, sir," it said, then popped out of sight.

"Now, I am already late, so I must leave you. I will return in the evening after dinner and we can discuss this more thoroughly. In the meantime, you may sleep on the sofa," he said, conjuring a blanket and pillow and shoving them into my arms.

"Thank you," I said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

"Don't make me regret this more than I already do," said Snape, spinning away from me in a billow of black robes and exiting the room with a click of the door. I felt the magic shimmer in the room as he placed wards around the door, effectively locking me inside.

It seemed I _was_ to be his prisoner. _Well, at least here I won't be tortured or killed, unlike Malfoy Manor_ , I thought.

Part of me wanted to look around where I would be living for the next eight months, but the other part—the more insistent part—was so tired. So I went over to the couch, propping the pillow at one end, and pulled the grey woollen blanket over me as I lay down. The couch felt like heaven, its plush seat cushioning my tired body.

A few moments later, I was out like a light.


	4. A Brief Respite

**Chapter 4: A Brief Respite**

I awoke some time later to the light fading in the room. I sat up as my eyes adjusted, and noticed a tray of food in front of me on the low mahogany coffee table. Beside a glass of pumpkin juice was a piece of parchment. I reached out from under the covers, settling them in my lap as I curled my legs under me so I was in a better position to read.

The note was short, scrawled in Snape's untidy, pointed hand.

_I have been called away this evening and do not know when I will return. Help yourself to the food. We will speak tomorrow._

_SS_

Shrugging, I put the parchment down on the table and grabbed a cucumber sandwich from the tray. As I bit into it and the sweet, buttery flavour filled my mouth, I suddenly realised how ravenous I was. When was the last time I'd eaten? In any case, it didn't take long for me to finish the entire tray.

Swallowing the last of the pumpkin juice, I looked around the room, getting a better look at my surroundings. Across from me was the other sofa, and behind it a large window, draped in dark green velvet. I stood up, letting the blankets slip onto the floor, and walked over to it.

It looked east over the lake, the main part of the castle visible to the right, and the sky was growing dark. It looked peaceful, but I knew that below me chaos was beginning to ensue. The Carrows were down there somewhere turning Hogwarts into a dark seedy shell of the castle I remembered from my school days. I wondered what Ginny, Neville, and Luna were doing: were they starting up the DA already, or had they waited until things got worse?

I knew, whatever was happening, I could not help them. I was only here for one man.

I pulled away from the window, back into the darkened room, and walked over to the cauldron bubbling in the corner; he had said not to touch, but I was just looking, was I not? The contents were thick and brown, simmering serenely. The steam coming from it smelled slightly bitter. I wasn't sure what it was, and there were no books or parchments on the table to inform me.

Curiosity satisfied for the moment, I turned around and went to the left of the two doors, pulling it open. It was the bedroom. A large four-poster bed stood to the right of the door, draped in black curtains and a green silk bedspread. In front of me was a dresser with a round mirror, and I walked forward to look at myself. My hair was a mess, a dark smudge running from my chin to my ear, and despite my rest I had dark circles under my eyes. My robes were torn in places, dotted with dirt and gore from the battle. In truth, I looked like a nightmare. _No wonder Snape hadn't trusted me!_

I exited the bedroom and went to the second door. It opened onto a marble staircase, which wound further up the tower. I climbed the steps curiously, and was greeted by a large circular bathroom. A large bathtub, similar to the one in the prefect's bathroom, was in the centre of the room. A double sink was to my right, with a large, curving white mirror, and next to it was the loo, surrounded by frosted glass. Opposite was a large, low window, which looked out over the castle grounds. Certainly, being headmaster had its perks.

Thinking of my reflection in the mirror again, I decided to take a bath. Snape was away, after all, and it seemed likely he would be back late. So I stripped off my clothes, turning on the taps of the enormous bathtub, which filled with pink bubbles.

I stepped in gingerly, the warm water feeling like bliss against my skin after so long. I shut my eyes and sank into the water, letting the bubbles pool around my shoulders, allowing myself to relax for the first time in months.

Somewhere, in some time, the war was over. I would give myself this reprieve before turning back to my mission to save Snape. Surely, the first task was to get him to trust me and not see me as a burden.

An hour later, well scrubbed and my skin wrinkled and swollen from being in the water so long, I forced myself from the bath. I found a large, fluffy white towel on a shelf near the window, and wrapped myself in its soft folds. My hair hung damply in soft curls on my shoulders, and I rubbed it with my towel while taking my small beaded bag from my dirty robes. It was a good thing I'd asked Snape for new robes, as these were now definitely needing to go in the rubbish bin.

Grabbing my wand, I summoned a clean pair of knickers, a different bra, jeans, and a t-shirt, and cast a Drying Charm before putting them on. I still needed a hairbrush, my old one having been lost some time ago, but all I could find among Snape's things was a thin plastic comb. My hair would likely break the flimsy thing into pieces before I got through a single section, so I gave up, untangling the knots with my fingers as best I could, then letting my bushy hair do what it wanted.

As I was hanging my towel to dry, I felt a shimmer of magic from below as the wards changed around me; Snape, apparently, had returned early. Then I heard a crash, and a deep voice swearing. I hurried down the stairs, hand on my wand in case Snape tried to hex me—he'd threatened to do it so often that I thought it best to be careful.

Another crash came as I reached the bottom of the staircase, and I tentatively opened the door.

"Stupefy!" I heard him yell, but being prepared, I cast a shield over myself. Snape's eyes widened in shock when he saw me, then turned to annoyance, and I thought maybe he'd forgotten I was there.

"Welcome back, sir," I said, lowering my wand and deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt for the moment. "Is everything all right?"

"As far as you are concerned, Miss Granger, everything is just peachy," he snapped. He walked over to the sitting area, where I noticed the blanket, pillow, and tray were missing (presumably removed by a house elf while I was in the bath), and sat down. He looked not unlike a sunbathing cat, one arm over the back of the sofa, his legs crossed in front of him, and I sat down across from him.

"So tell me, Miss Granger, what exactly do you plan on doing for the next eight months?" he asked, as if he didn't really care what I answered with.

"I'm not sure exactly," I admitted. I wasn't entirely sure how I planned on getting Snape to trust me, let alone convince him to live, and telling him that wasn't going to get me any points, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Well, _bravo_ , I can see a lot of thought went into this little plan," drawled Snape.

A snappy comeback was not going to get me into his good books either, so I decided to change the subject.

"How do you like being headmaster?" I asked.

"Oh, it's just wonderful. Saving children from their own stupidity is what I have always dreamed of," said Snape bitterly.

"I never understood why you teach, if you hate children so much," I admitted.

"You know perfectly well why I'm here, Miss Granger," snapped Snape.

Again, I decided against asking him sarcastically if he enjoyed being a spy. He really was offering up so many opportunities; I was a little sad to have to control myself again.

"You can call me Hermione," I offered instead, thinking it might lighten our relationship.

"I'd prefer not to get on any friendlier terms, Miss Granger. It's bad enough to be forced into your presence," said Snape. "Will you be jumping up and down with your hand in the air every morning, or do you only do that in class?"

"Oh, I do it as often as I can," I quipped, unable to stop myself this time. "In fact, let's play a game: I'll put my hand in the air, and you can see how long you can ignore me for."

"Indefinitely," drawled Snape, looking bored.

"It's too bad I'm no longer a student, or you could take away some house points for fun as well," I said, feeling I was really on a roll now. "Or would you prefer some other form of torture, like the Carrows?"

"That is enough!" shouted Snape, sitting up violently. "How dare you insult me in my own rooms, you little—"

"Mudblood? Is that what you called Lily too?" I spat back.

What little colour there was drained from Severus's face. He leapt across the space between us and grabbed my arm, yanking me up to my feet and pointing his wand at my throat. I had an odd sense of deja-vu, and my wrist twinged in pain as he tightened his hold on it.

"Ah, so you do like torture like the Carrows," I said, staring defiantly at him. I was done with letting him act like a sod while I tried to be nice.

He let me go roughly, and I stepped backwards, rubbing my wrist and glaring at him.

"We are going to bed _now_ ," he hissed. "Follow me unless you want to be thrown out the window."

I followed him into the bedroom. He flicked his wand and a small bed appeared opposite his own, next to the fireplace, covered in grey blankets. He stared at me as though expecting me to crawl into bed immediately in my jeans and t-shirt, and I decided, seeing as I'd only just got up, I wanted a little bit of fun first. It would make this whole ridiculous situation just that much more bearable, at least.

"Er, Professor," I said tentatively, "until I get the things you sent for, do you have something I can wear to bed?"

Snape blinked, staring at me. I waited, trying not to feel too pleased at his discomfort.

"Excuse me?" he finally said.

"Well, I don't mind sleeping in my underwear, but I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable with it," I said innocently, biting my bottom lip, not quite sure what had got into me. Perhaps it was the fact that I'd just helped save the world from one of the most evil wizards of all time; perhaps because the last year on the run had made me more confident than I'd ever felt before; or perhaps because Snape had been a complete arse to me ever since I'd arrived when all I wanted to do was help him—yes, that last one was probably it.

A blush crawled its way up Snape's pale cheeks, returning colour to his face, and I had to stifle a grin.

"Most certainly not!" he stammered, summoning a grey nightshirt from his dresser and shoving it into my hands. I held it up in front of me to inspect it. Honestly, it was hideous, and I imagined it must have made Snape look like some sort of pale slug.

I couldn't help my giggles this time, and said, "You don't seriously wear this, do you?"

"What's wrong with it?" Snape snapped.

"Well, no offence, sir," I said, "but it looks like something my grandfather would wear." Gods, what had come over me? The old Hermione never would have said any of this to her professor, let alone the intimidating dungeon bat. But if Snape wouldn't let me save his life, then at least I could salvage the trip by taking the piss out of him. The only thing that would make it better was if Harry and Ron were there to watch.

I saw Snape's eye twitch. _Well, as long as he doesn't kill me._

"It's fine, it's fine," I said, not wanting another row. "Would you mind stepping out while I get changed?"

Snape quickly spun and left me, and I heard him collapse on the couch and sigh loudly on the other side of the closed bedroom door.

Amused, I changed into the night shirt, which was far too large, practically dragging on the floor and the arms a good four inches longer than my fingers. I looked like a four-year-old wearing her father's clothes. Unwilling to sleep in it the way it was, I transfigured it into a nightgown, which was still an ugly grey, but at least fit me better.

I peeked my head out the door. Snape was laying on the couch facing me, staring at the ceiling and rubbing his thumb across his Adam's apple, clearly thinking about something.

"I'm finished, sir, if you'd like to come to bed," I said.

Snape looked over at me and I saw a slight smile grace his lips before he fixed his face back into a stern mask.

"I will be up for some time," he said smoothly.

"Good night, then," I said.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he answered, and I closed the door.


	5. Making Friends with Monsters

**Chapter 5: Making Friends with Monsters**

When I woke up the next morning, Snape was already gone. I stretched under my covers, enjoying the peace and quiet, hoping I would be able to speak with him later.

I'd had a surprising amount of fun teasing him the night before, but I wasn't sure it had won me any points with my ex-professor.

I wondered how Dumbledore managed to get Snape to trust him, but then realised that was a stupid question: it was Dumbledore—even Voldemort respected him.

_So, no problem, just need to become the most powerful witch in the world._

I grinned at my own joke, then felt a little guilty for making it. Trapped in Snape's tower, knowing that Voldemort was dead in my old time, a lightness filled me that I hadn't felt in years.

But I knew that outside these walls, there was a still a war raging on. I'd have to remember that, when I spoke to Snape; the war was still very real for him, still very present.

I sighed. _Perhaps I shouldn't have teased him quite so harshly last night._

 _No, he deserved it_ , I thought, rolling on to my stomach and stretching again, then pushing myself out of bed.

The floor was cold against my bare feet, and I peeked out the bedroom door to make sure I was really alone before heading up to the bathroom.

Arriving back into the sitting room after using the loo, I noticed a pile of things lying on one of the couches. I went over to inspect it and found everything on the list I'd given Snape the day before: three sets of clean black robes, pajamas, and the toiletries I'd asked for. The invisibility cloak was folded up beside them, along with my things I'd left in the bathroom. Bless them, the house elves certainly deserved more credit than they received; I wished I'd been around to thank them personally.

I grabbed everything and went back into the bedroom, wondering where I might keep it all. I could store a lot of things in my beaded bag, but it would be easier not to have to rummage through it every day. Deciding I'd allow myself to push into Snape's world a little more, I walked to the large wardrobe near the door. I took a look inside, half-expecting to find a boggart, but instead finding several identical sets of Snape's black robes, as well as a pair of dress robes. I fingered the soft fabric of the dress robes, wondering if he ever got a chance to wear them—he'd been wearing his teachers' robes at the Yule Ball, I remembered—and then carefully pushed everything aside just enough to make a small space for my new robes. Conjuring a few hangers and careful to leave a space so our things wouldn't touch, I hung my new robes inside, along with the dress I'd worn to Bill and Fleur's wedding, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

Then I went to the dresser next to Snape's bed, wondering if I might procure a drawer. I opened the bottom one to find several nightshirts, all the same as the ugly grey one Snape had given me to wear. The next drawer had socks and underwear (boxers, all black, I noted with slight surprise; I'd always figured Snape a tighty-whitey sort of guy); I giggled to myself at the craziness that was finding myself looking at Snape's underwear, and shut the drawer.

The top level had two smaller drawers. The first was filled with what looked like personal objects: letters, a torn photo of Lily, and odds and ends; I closed this one fairly certain Snape would hex me unconscious if he knew I'd looked inside. The other drawer was mercilessly empty, except for a small black spider, which I transfigured into a lavender-filled pouch and then magically enlarged the drawer before laying my underwear, socks, bras, jeans and tops, as well as the Invisibility Cloak, gently inside.

Then, with great glee, I took one of my new robes and my fresh toiletries up to the bathroom to bathe and get changed. When I was done, I looked at myself in the mirror: my hair was still frizzy, my robes plain, but I felt like a million quid. My teeth were clean, my clothes were washed, my hair was brushed, and I hadn't slept in a dungeon cell, a forest, a tent, or a run-down old house.

I blissfully twirled in front of the mirror, and then remembered about the war outside the walls again and felt guilty once more. Admonishing myself, I made my way downstairs wondering what the Other Me was likely doing. I had left my time on May 2, which meant that today was September 3. I stopped halfway down the stairs, putting my hand on my chest to steady my heart. No wonder Snape had been called away yesterday: Harry, Ron, and I had broken into the Ministry on September 2, which meant we now had Slytherin's locket and were on the run. We'd be in the forest near where the Quidditch World Cup was held, Ron's shoulder still healing from his splinching, but would be leaving soon, scared to stay in one place too long. The Death Eaters were probably busy ransacking Grimmauld Place as I stood in Severus's rooms.

It brought the war back to me instantly: the uncertainty, the fear, the pain, the death. My heart pumped wildly beneath my hand. _It's okay_ , I reassured myself, _you survived_.

I shook my head, forcing my mind back to my present: if I was going to be successful saving Snape, I was going to have to stop thinking about what was happening outside his rooms. No matter what I heard or how much I wanted to help, I'd just have to remind myself we'd win in the end. _We won. We won!_

Feeling sure enough to move, I continued down the steps, ignoring my breakfast and flopping myself on the couch when I reached the sitting room, thinking about how I might convince Snape to trust me and to want to live.

Who did he trust, other than Dumbledore? His colleagues? Even if he did, they more than likely didn't trust him anymore, thinking he was under Voldemort's command. Did he have any other friends? From Harry's description of his memories, other than Lily, his school friends had all been Death Eaters, and they certainly didn't count as trustworthy (or even very friendly). The Order members had only ever tolerated him because of Dumbledore, and now thought him a traitor.

I looked around the room. There were no photos anywhere, no hints of family, friends, or even any pets. Severus Snape was completely alone.

He had chosen this life, but it still made me sad. I tried to imagine my own life without my friends, without loving parents, without Crookshanks, and found I couldn't: a life devoid of love and friendship was one not worth living.

I knew what I had to do then, how to get Severus to want to live: I needed to become his friend.

I suddenly understood why Dumbledore had given me eight months.

My relationship with Snape had always been cold and indifferent at best, antagonistic and cruel at worst. I had no trouble talking back to him now he was no longer my teacher, but I had no idea how to be friends with the man. Something told me he would not want to be friends with me; he saw me as an annoying know-it-all, one of Harry's friends, a student—and now a pain in his side.

Making friends wasn't really my forte, but I supposed I would just have to give it a shot. I couldn't lure a troll into the room (which was how I'd managed to become friends with Harry and Ron, after all), so I'd have to start with small talk. That's what others did, right?

I stood up and went to the bookshelf, deciding to read until Snape returned that evening. I scanned the shelves, looking for something interesting, when I spotted _Making Friends with Monsters_.

I picked it from the shelf, a terrifying looking manticore emblazoned on the cover, its scorpion tail poised in attack position. Reading it it certainly couldn't hurt, I thought, settling back down on the couch and reaching for a piece of toast. At the very least I could make friends with the troll.


	6. Making Friends in Four Easy Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my beta AdelaideArcher, and to all those who leave comments and kudos.

**Chapter 6: Making Friends in Four Easy Steps**

 

_There are four simple rules for making friends with monsters:_

_1) Always approach the beast with caution. Do not show your fear, but never turn your back. Act with confidence, but do not show arrogance, as this may anger the beast._

"Good evening, Professor," I said brightly when he returned to his rooms after dinner, but he only glared sourly at me.

He sat himself gracefully on the couch opposite me, his arm draped over the side and his long legs crossed in front of him, looking at me as if I were some sort of annoying bug he desired to squash.

"How was your day, Professor?" I asked, trying to engage him in small talk. However, he still gave no answer, instead lazily waving his wand so a silver tea set appeared on the table in front of us. _Well, at least he conjured two cups_ , I thought, looking at the two delicate bone china pieces next to the silver teapot.

I took it upon myself to pour us both some tea, determined not to let the way he was deliberately ignoring me get under my skin. Snapping at him again was no way to make friends.

"Milk or sugar?" I asked.

"Just milk," said Snape, and I smiled, thankful he hadn't gone completely mute. I poured a dash of milk into his tea, stirred it, and handed him the cup. He nodded at me as he took the white china cup from my hand, and then I put milk and a small teaspoon of sugar into my own cup before leaning back on the couch and taking a sip.

I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I simply looked at him, determined to study the man as best I could. I had the feeling he was doing the same to me, his black eyes flicking back and forth over mine as if we were playing a game of poker and he was trying to find my bluff.

He was a hard man to read. Though it was clear when he was displeased, his face gave away very little emotion other than the occasional scowl or sneer. His eyes were emotionless and blank, and I found myself wondering if he was using Occlumency just then. I tried to remember him from class as he swept between our rows of cauldrons, and recognised the same calculating stare, as if he was looking for a mistake to comment on.

His eyes then flicked from my face to the table, where I'd left the copy of _Making Friends with Monsters_ I'd been reading earlier.

"Taken a sudden interest in Care of Magical Creatures, Miss Granger?" he asked with a sneer.

Withholding my urge to shoot him a catty comment, I merely shrugged, answering, "I thought it might be useful."

"I'll be sure to tell Hagrid tomorrow about his new apprentice," said Snape, and I realized he was likely trying to rile me up again. _Honestly, could the man not simply relax?_

"I'd much rather be your apprentice," I said, thinking a little flattery never hurt anyone.

"And what makes you think I'm in the position to take an apprentice?" said Snape, his face giving away nothing, though I noted with curiosity that he hadn't outright dismissed the idea.

"I didn't say you were," I answered coolly. "I was only stating my preference."

"Potions or Defense?" he asked.

"Potions," I said. "I've had enough Defense experience to last a lifetime."

"I'm sure Slughorn would accept an application," he said, another sneer gracing his lips. Ah, there it was, the rejection I'd been expecting.

"Perhaps," I said noncommittally. "Though I think you have more to offer."

Snape snorted disdainfully. "Your obvious attempts at flattery are so terribly Gryffindor," he drawled. "Did you read that in a book somewhere? Or did you actually think for yourself for once?"

_Do not rise to his bait_ , I thought, gripping my tea cup a little harder. I took a sip, calming myself with the warm liquid.

"I may not be a Slytherin," I said, "but that doesn't mean I'm completely devoid of cunning."

"Miss Granger, you have the cunning of a mange-eaten, half-dead weasel," said Snape.

"I seem to remember Slytherin having at least one ferret," I said with a glint in my eyes, and for the briefest moments I swore the corners of Snape's lips rose into the slightest of smiles, before vanishing into his signature scowl.

* * *

_2) Show the beast you mean well. Appeal to his desire for survival and prosperity. Provide him with a gift of something he desires._

Over the next few weeks, I fell into a simple routine. Snape was typically gone when I awoke each morning—surprising given I considered myself a morning person, usually waking up around six o'clock. I would bathe, eat, and then read for the rest of the morning until an elf-delivered lunch. After lunch I would practice Charms or Transfiguration for an hour so my spellcasting didn't suffer during my confinement, and then I would do an exercise routine I'd developed during the early part of my second week to stop myself going completely mad from restlessness.

I'd never been very sporty. Quidditch and riding broomsticks were certainly never my thing, and as a child I'd always been picked last for teams in PE. However, I found my new exercise regime energizing. First, I'd run up and down the stairs to the bathroom until I was thoroughly out of breath. Next, I would do a series of squats, push-ups, sit-ups, and lunges. Finally, I'd do some yoga stretches and poses I'd learned while on holidays in Bali with my parents.

After my fitness routine, I'd return to reading until dinner, which I ate in private once more. Professor Snape typically returned after that, and we would share a cup of tea and then read silently together until bedtime. I always went to bed first, for some reason—though I think Snape preferred it that way—and would fall asleep before he joined me in the bedroom.

What this routine meant was that I only really saw Snape for a few hours each day, but I could honestly not think of a way to see more of him, or what I might do if I had more time. At least this way we rarely argued, and I thought he might become more accepting of my presence in his private world. I was still trying to become his friend, after all; and after studying him for some time, I believed that I needed to allow him to take control of the pace of our relationship for the time being, and so I resolved to be patient.

At the end of my third week with Snape, however, I had an idea that I thought might nudge things along just a little. Tired of reading _The Big Book of Spells_ , which contained mostly fluffy nonsense I thought Parvati might be interested in like how to change the colour of your hair or make your armpits smell like rose petals (I tried not to think about how Snape had ended up with a copy of it in his library), I'd spent most of the previous morning going through my beaded bag. I spread the contents on my cot, and was really quite impressed with how much I'd managed to stuff inside: a large stack of books, a pile of Ron and Harry's clothes, several clothes of my own that I thought had been lost, the tent and camping supplies, Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait, and several other odds and ends.

I took special care not to let Phineas's portrait see me or where I was by wrapping the portrait in Harry's dress robes, and then organised everything back inside the bag except for my clothes, a few of the books, and a small batch of potions bottles. It was the potions I planned to use to hopefully progress my friendship with Snape a little further.

I waited until Snape was comfortably seated with a cup of tea before attempting to engage him in conversation.

"Sir, may I ask you something?" I said.

"Will you cease bothering me afterwards if I say yes?" said Severus silkily.

"Can I ask why you have a copy of _The Big Book of Spells_?" I asked, motioning towards the book I'd left on the coffee table. "Most of what's inside seems rather simple and silly. I mean, I can't imagine you having a need for lilac toenails."

"Miss Granger, just because spells seem simple and silly, does not make them useless," said Snape with a sneer. "While I can't say I have a use for lilac toenails, knowing how to change one's appearance when needed is rather beneficial, don't you think?"

I wanted to smack myself in the forehead for being so dense. Snape was a Death Eater, an Order member, and a spy for two masters; of course, he'd have experienced times when he needed to look different. Especially since he did rather stand out in a crowd.

"Now I feel simple and silly," I admitted.

"I won't argue with you on that point," said Snape smoothly, though there wasn't his typical venom.

"Sir," I said, hoping now was a good time to give him the potions.

"I thought you said you would cease bothering me if I let you ask me your question?" said Snape, looking perturbed.

"I will, I promise, I just wanted to give you something first," I said, pulling the bottles from my pocket and putting them on the table in front of him.

"What are these, Miss Granger?" he asked, looking curiously at the little crystal vials.

"Essence of Dittany, Polyjuice Potion, Invigoration Draught, and Murtlap Essence," I explained. "I know they aren't much, but I thought they might be useful to you. I don't need them anymore, anyway."

I picked up _The Big Book of Spells_ , intending to go back to reading, when Professor Snape spoke.

"Why do you have these?" he asked, his face passive as he looked at me.

"I had them in my bag, from when I was with Ron and Harry last year—or this year, I guess," I answered.

"And what, exactly, did you, Potter, and Weasley do last year—or this year," asked Snape, and I could tell he was trying not to look to eager to know the answer.

"All I can tell you is that we're doing something for Dumbledore," I said, remembering Dumbledore's warning before I left with the Time Turner.

"Dumbledore told you not to tell me about it, didn't he?" Snape glowered.

"Yes," I said. "He told us not to tell anyone."

Snape's eyes flashed for a moment and his fingers tightened on his teacup, but he said nothing in reply, his jaw working back and forth as he glared at me.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I said quietly. I wished I could tell him, really; he held our future in his hands, and I knew it would help bring us closer together, but I could not openly defy Dumbledore in case it really did interfere with our mission. "When this is over, when Voldemort's gone, I promise you'll be the first person I tell," I offered.

"You forget, Miss Granger, that I do not intend to survive this war," said Snape smoothly, and if it was possible, his eyes deepened to a colour blacker than night. "Go back to reading."

* * *

_3) Expect setbacks. Sometimes, you will push too far. Do not give up if you wish to truly be friends with the beast. Reflect on your mistakes and try again, better for them._

I didn't realise quite how many meetings being Headmaster involved before I arrived in Snape's rooms. I often heard Snape speaking with staff and students in his office during the day to discuss school policies, curriculum, administration, staffing, events, and a whole host of other topics. Sometimes I wondered if Professor Snape preferred his new position, with its seemingly endless meetings, or if he would rather still be teaching down in the dungeons (not that he ever seemed to like that much).

I would always stop reading to listen to his meetings in case I could learn something important, but most often they were dreadfully dull, about things like budgets and ordering supplies and food, and they didn't keep my attention long.

However, early one morning I heard the door of his office slam open and the yell of my old Head of House, and I knew this would be a conversation worth listening to.

"How dare you let Alecto treat Ginny Weasley in that way!" roared Professor McGonagall, and I knew her eyes would be glaring daggers at the headmaster.

"Miss Weasley was caught speaking out against the Dark Lord, and so she was punished accordingly," said Snape dryly.

"If Dumbledore was here—"

"Dumbledore is dead," snapped Snape, interrupting her, "and while I am in charge of this school, Alecto and Amycus are in charge of punishments. A little fear will do the dunderheads some good."

"Traitor," spat McGonagall.

"Now Minerva, I don't think it's wise to speak to your headmaster that way if you wish to remain employed at this school," said Snape, and I could hear the anger rising in his voice.

"You will pay for this, Severus," hissed McGonagall, the sound of the door slamming behind her echoing into the chambers where I sat.

"I already have," muttered Snape to himself.

My heart clenched with sympathy, and I wondered how he believed he had paid already. By losing Lily? By becoming a spy? By holding onto secrets for Dumbledore? By cutting himself off from friendship or love when he accepted Dumbledore's wish to die at Snape's hand?

Perhaps it was all those things. I wished I could tell him it didn't need to be so hard, that he didn't need to be so alone, that I was here for him. But of course he didn't want me, he didn't see me as a friend yet. And I knew, in all his stubbornness, I could not force him to see me that way.

So I went back to my book and continued reading, and followed my routine until it was time for our after-dinner tea.

"What happened to Ginny Weasley?" I asked, hoping my question wasn't too forward, as I passed him his cup of tea.

"Ah, yes, I suppose you can hear everything from here, can't you?" said Snape with a sigh. "Sadly your friend has become rather… irritating. A Weasley tradition, I suppose."

"I know what they're doing, Ginny and the DA," I said. "I just wondered what happened specifically to Ginny."

"You know, do you? I suppose you'd be doing the same thing if you were here," said Snape.

"Except I would never be here, because I'm a Muggleborn," I said bitterly. "I'd be dead or rotting in Azkaban or something."

Before Snape could finish, I spoke my next thought. "How could you join them?" I asked honestly. "I know you're doing all you can now, and have been for a long time, but how could you join them in the beginning? How could you become a Death Eater? Didn't you know what Tom would become?"

Snape's eyes narrowed the longer I spoke, so that by the time I asked my last question, they were slits beneath his heavily creased brows.

"That," he hissed, "is none of your damn business."

_Shit._

"I know, I'm sorry," I said, trying to backpedal from the perilous cliff I suddenly found myself perched precariously at the edge of. "I was just curious."

"Your curiosity is going to get you into a lot of trouble one day, Miss Granger," said Snape dangerously.

_Shit!_

Feeling the carefully laid truce of the past few weeks about to break apart, I decided it was time for a little Gryffindor forwardness and courage.

I put my teacup on the table and stood up. Snape smirked at me, likely thinking I was going to leave him and his temper alone, but his smirk quickly turned into a look of shock when I sat down next to him.

"I'm really sorry. I won't ask again. Your reasons for joining, what you did before, none of it matters," I said firmly, forcing myself to look him in the eyes so he would know I was being genuine. "I know you're doing all you can for us now, and I know what I say won't make any difference, but I want you to know I appreciate it, and so will everyone else once they find out."

I have no idea what came over me then, but I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

As I pulled away, I became suddenly worried that I'd gone too far. There was the slightest bit of colour in his cheeks, and instead of yelling or hexing me like I expected, he turned his head away from me, so all I could see was a sheet of shiny raven-black hair.

"I think you should go back to your couch, Miss Granger," he said softly.

Without hesitation, I lifted myself from his side and sat down on the other couch, blushing a violent red.

_You kissed Severus Snape on the cheek! What were you thinking?!_

We read in silence for the rest of the evening, not daring to look at each other in the eyes.

* * *

_4) Do not take trust for granted. The beast will show you when he trusts you. If you wish to proceed towards true friendship, show him your trust in return._

Somehow, kissing Snape on the cheek did not permanently damage our relationship. Thankfully, we both seemed determined to pretend it hadn't happened, and the next few days were as routine as the ones before it.

I didn't realise then that I'd managed to get him to trust me, but it became plainly obvious to me on a Saturday night.

I was already in bed, and Snape had been called away to deal with something. But I was a light sleeper—it happens when you spend a year on the run in mortal danger, I suppose—and so when the door to Snape's quarters slammed, I awoke.

I opened my eyes to slits, grasping my wand tightly beneath the covers. I could see a light on in the next room, a narrow yellow strip beneath the closed bedroom door, and could hear someone pacing back and forth on the wood floor, but I could not be sure it was Snape.

The pacing quickly stopped, and the door to the bedroom opened. Snape was silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, like some vampiric shadow, and then the light went out behind him. As my eyes adjusted to the low light, he strode forward, his shoes clicking on the floor, and in four long strides he was in front of his bed.

His back was facing me as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his robes. As the black fabric fluttered to his feet, I had to stifle a gasp as his bare back was hit with the moonlight; it was a mess of scars, crisscrossed like a game of pick-up sticks over his back.

He bent over to pull off his socks, and I noticed his calves flex, showing wiry muscles beneath the skin. He crawled into bed beneath the sheets, not bothering to put a nightshirt on over his underwear, nor to close the curtains. His raven hair spraying out across the pillows, I watched his breath rise and fall beneath the covers as he fell asleep in front of me.

It was incredible to me, watching this powerful man undress and sleep across from me. He was normally so careful and controlled; previously, if I'd woken up as he'd come to bed, he'd gone into the other room to change into a nightshirt, and would sleep on his back with his hand on his wand. And yet tonight he'd shed his robes, showed me his scars, and slept naked and vulnerable with his back facing me. At that moment, he seemed so suddenly… human.

That was when I realised that he trusted me.

I didn't know if he did it on purpose. He may not have even known I was awake. But it was as plain as day to me that he trusted me.

I also realised that somehow, I needed to tell him I got the message. I needed to tell him I trusted him too.

I fell asleep that night not sure how I would do it, but a day later the answer was obvious.

The following night I made myself stay up far later than I normally did, long enough that Snape asked me if I was going to go to bed.

"I'm not tired for some reason," I said. "Please, go ahead. I won't disturb you."

Snape nodded and left the room, and I gave him 20 minutes to get settled before I put down my book, cleaned my teeth and face, and then made my way to the bedroom.

I shut the door a little louder than I would have normally just to be sure he would be awake. Being a spy, I had a feeling Snape was a light sleeper like myself. I was glad to see the curtains on his bed weren't drawn, and the room was filled with the soft, silvery light of the moon as it passed by the window.

I padded over to my cot, and stood in front of it so my back was fully exposed to his bed. I heard the slightest rustle of sheets, and smiled, believing he was watching me.

Taking a breath, I pulled my robes over my head and dropped them on the floor, so I was standing in only my bra and underwear. I unlatched my bra with a flick of my fingers behind me, and let it drop next to my robe.

I stood there for a moment, allowing Snape to see the long scar that ran from above my left buttock to my right shoulder blade, where Dolohov's curse had left its mark at the end of sixth year; I had a matching one across my front from the same curse, but I wasn't about to let Snape see that one.

The cold air of the room brought goose bumps up on my skin, but I lingered for a moment, letting my breath slow as I stood allowing myself to scrutinised by the man in bed behind me.

When I felt he'd seen enough, I slipped under the covers of my cot, pulling the blankets up over me and closing my eyes.

I hoped he'd seen. I hoped he understood my message.

_I trust you, Severus Snape. Be my friend._


	7. Break and Enter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! Please keep them coming. I love hearing what you think.
> 
> Thanks to my beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are mine.

**Chapter 7: Break and Enter**

When I'd learned about how the DA was making trouble at Hogwarts while still on the run, and later when we were sneaking into the castle, I didn't think much about how it affected Snape other than being a great pain in his backside. At the time, Snape was still the enemy, an agent of the Dark Lord, and he seemed impervious as the headmaster of the great school.

My mind was changed one night in early October in Snape's time.

It was late at night, and I was already in bed when I awoke to whispers coming from Snape's office.

"It looks different than when Dumbledore was here," said a dreamy female voice. It sounded familiar, but in my sleepy state I couldn't place it.

"It's got to be in here. Look around," said a different female voice, and this time I knew who it was.

I quickly slipped from my bed, grabbing my wand, and crept out of the bedroom. Snape was standing near the doorway that led down to his office, his wand in his hand, listening intently. I went to his side, hearing nothing but footsteps below us.

"It's Ginny Weasley," I whispered to him, and, realising who the other girl must be, added, "and Luna Lovegood."

"There, in the glass case!" came a male voice from below—Neville. "Shit! It's locked!"

"Get back, both of you," said Ginny, who a moment later quietly whispered, "Reducto!"

There was the sound of breaking glass, and I realised that this was the night Ginny, Neville, and Luna were attempting to steal the fake Gryffindor Sword.

"Gryffindor's sword," I whispered urgently to Snape.

"Stay here," he said, and quickly opened the door, flying down the stairs like a panther stalking its prey.

I knew I needed to stay hidden in the chambers, but I couldn't help but feel nervous at what was happening below. I was somewhat surprised that I not only felt anxious for my three friends, but also for Snape, whose feet could now be heard crunching across the broken glass in the room below as he followed the intruders.

"Stuck, are we?" came his velvety deep voice. There was a shout, and then I shivered as he said, "Hexing your headmaster is most inadvisable, Miss Weasley. I suggest you all return to my office unless you would like to be cursed right here on the stairs."

I willed Ginny not to do anything stupid, and was relieved when I heard bodies moving in the office once more.

"Sit," said Snape, sounding cool. "The sword, please." Another pause, and then, "Now, who would like to tell me why you are out of bed after curfew attempting to loot my office?"

None of the three students said a word in reply, and I imagined they were likely shaking in their seats.

"Longbottom, speak," ordered Snape.

"It was…" Neville paused, "just a prank, sir."

_Surely Snape won't believe that. They were clearly looking for the sword._

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Longbottom?"

"No, sir," he said quietly.

"The real reason then," he said.

"I won't tell you," said Neville, quiet but firm.

"Excuse me?" hissed Snape.

"Curse me if you want. Call the Carrows. I'm not telling," said Neville, more loudly this time, and I was really impressed, but also a little scared for him. I knew Snape didn't really want to hurt his students, but wasn't sure how far he was willing to go to protect his careful ruse.

"Detention, all of you," snapped Snape. "Tomorrow night with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest. You are also banned from Hogsmeade for the remainder of the year. Be warned that if I catch any of you attempting to break into my office again, I will not be so lenient. Now, unless you really do want me to call the Carrows, return to your dormitories immediately."

There was a scrambling of chairs and feet, and then quiet.

"Dumbledore," said Snape after a few moments.

"Yes, Severus?" said Dumbledore, sounding oddly serene considering what had just happened.

"How do they know about the sword?" asked Snape.

"I expect Miss Weasley is attempting to give it to its rightful owner," said Dumbledore.

"I will have to tell the Dark Lord," said Snape lowly. "He will likely ask me to give it to him."

"Yes, yes, if he does, you must," said Dumbledore calmly.

There were more footsteps and suddenly Snape appeared in front of me. His face was solemn and sure, his body stiff. "I must go. You should return to bed," he said.

"Be careful," I replied, unsure what else to say. Snape gave me a sharp nod, and then disappeared once more down the stairs. I heard a soft pop, and then there was nothing but silence.

I tried to go back to sleep, but found I was too worried about what might be happening between Snape and Voldemort. Every time I closed my eyes, I'd hear a creak or a rustle and shoot awake, thinking it was Snape returning.

I knew, of course, that the fake sword would end up in Bellatrix's vault. I also knew that Snape had the real sword hidden behind Dumbledore's portrait. I knew in the end it would all end up okay. But still I worried for the man who'd left the bed across from mine vacant tonight.

I'd just nodded off into a light doze hours later when I heard a thud and a crash from the sitting room. Grabbing my wand, I quickly got out of bed and exited the room.

I could see only Snape's head from his place on the couch. He seemed to be leaning forward, and let out a hiss.

"Professor Snape? Is everything all right?" I asked, approaching him carefully.

"Go back to sleep," he said as I came around the edge of the sofa to find him shirtless, his chest slashed with open wounds, and holding a bottle of dittany.

"You're hurt!" I said, coming in front of him.

"I'm fine, Miss Granger," said Snape, but as he spoke a large drip of blood seeped out of a deep gash on his chest.

"There must be something I can do," I said. "I'm not very practised in healing spells, but I have plenty of practice applying dittany. I—I could do the cuts on your back for you. Do you need any other potions?"

"Miss Granger, please," he said, sounding exasperated and tired. "I'm fine. Look."

He raised his wand and waved it over the red, wet wounds on his torso, the words "Vulnera Sanentur" coming from his lips in a rich tenor song. The spell was oddly beautiful as he sang it twice more, and the wounds slowly stopped bleeding, then knitted themselves back together until there were only puffy pink lines showing on his pale skin.

He began applying dittany to the wounds as I stood there watching, entranced by the stoic man stitching up his own flesh as if it was no different than putting on clothes or eating breakfast.

"Miss Granger, can you stop staring at me with your mouth open like a fish?" he growled.

"Sorry, Professor," I said, feeling a blush come up my cheeks.

"If you want to be useful, you can get me a Blood Replenishing Potion from the cabinet over there," he said, waving his wand towards a mahogany cabinet in his laboratory, which gave an audible click.

I immediately scampered off, going to the cabinet and finding a small bottle of red potion labeled in a spiky scrawl. Then, thinking his robes were most likely bloody and possibly torn, I went to the bedroom and pulled one of his ugly grey nightshirts from the dresser before returning to his side.

"Here's the potion," I said, handing him the bottle. He uncorked it and swiftly tipped it into his mouth in a practiced motion.

"I also brought you this," I said, putting the nightshirt on the couch next to him. "Would you like me to apply the dittany to your back?"

Snape sighed, but handed me the bottle of dittany, which I recognised as the one I had given him the week before. Moving on the couch so I could sit beside him, he turned his back to me, and I was reminded once more of his trust.

"Did Vol—did You-Know-Who do this to you?" I asked quietly, dabbing the dittany onto a pink line that ran across his left shoulder blade.

"What do you think, Miss Granger?" Snape answered, which I assumed meant 'yes.'

"Does it happen often?" I asked, moving to another puckered mark that ran parallel to his spine.

"Only when he feels we need to be punished or reminded of his control," said Snape. "Thankfully, I am given more time away from his side with my position at the school."

"Don't worry, I won't tell him you don't like his company," I said, to which Snape chuckled softly. I'd never heard him laugh before; it was a lovely rumbling sound from his chest that made me smile in return.

"I'm all done," I said, placing my hand lightly on his back between his shoulder blades. He flinched at my touch, but I let my hand linger a moment. His skin was surprisingly warm beneath my palm, his form thin but muscular under all the scars.

Standing up, I took the empty bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion and the Essence of Dittany and returned them to the cabinet in the laboratory. When I turned around, he was wearing the ugly grey nightshirt, which hung limply over his frame. _He really would look better in a t-shirt and sleeping pants_ , I thought, wondering if he'd completely freak out if I transfigured him a pair.

"Do you need anything else?" I asked, deciding now was not an appropriate time to discuss sleepwear.

"No," he said, sounding tired. "I need to go and speak to Dumbledore's portrait for a moment. You should return to bed."

"All right," I said. "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," he said, turning towards the door. I headed back to the bedroom, and had made it to the door when I heard him call my name once more.

"Yes, Professor?" I asked, turning to face him. He stood, half-hidden in the doorway, the firelight reflecting softly in his bottomless black eyes.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said with a nod.

"I—you're welcome, sir," I said, smiling and nodding in return, feeling, perhaps, we'd just taken one step closer to becoming friends.


	8. Essentials of Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Onwards we go!
> 
> Much love and thanks to my beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

**Chapter 8: Essentials of Healing**

Snape was missing from his bed as usual the following morning. However, my encounter the night before helping him heal his wounds had shown me that there was something more I could do to help him beyond becoming his friend and, hopefully, saving his life. I couldn't leave the chambers, so I couldn't help him fight the Dark Lord directly, but I could make sure he didn't suffer once he returned.

After breakfast, I scoured Snape's library for books related to healing, finding several suitable tomes. I settled down on the couch with _Essentials of Healing_ , wondering if Snape would think I'd gone mad once he saw the stack of books on the table that evening.

"Developed a sudden interest in healing, have we?" he said dryly over a cup of tea.

"Well, if something like last night happens again, I want to be more prepared," I said.

"I assure you, Miss Granger, that is unnecessary," he replied. "As you saw, I am more than capable of healing myself."

"Oh, I'm not saying you aren't capable, sir," I said quickly. "But what if you're unconscious, or too weak to cast? I can't exactly call Madam Pomfrey."

"That is unlikely," said Snape.

"I know, but just in case," I said, straightening up and giving him a weak smile. "I also thought I could brew some potions. I didn't see another bottle of Blood-Replenisher in the cupboard last night. I could make more, and some others, so that we're prepared if anything happens. I won't without your permission, of course, since I'd need to use your laboratory here, and you'd need to get me the ingredients. But I'm more than capable, sir, and it would give me something useful to do during the day when you're working."

I knew I was rambling, but I really did like the thought of being more useful to Snape. Plus the thought of encountering him bleeding out in his rooms and having no idea what to do terrified me.

That thought made me think of Snape in the Shrieking Shack, limp and bleeding onto the rough wooden floor, and I became even more determined to learn how to heal properly.

"Please, sir," I said, looking him in the eyes and trying to will him to accept.

Snape's brows knitted into a scowl as he seemed to consider my request. I did my best to sit patiently, but grew restless the longer he was silent, eventually squirming in my seat.

"Stop jumping around like a flea, Miss Granger," he snapped eventually.

"Sorry, sir," I said, forcing myself to settle.

Snape sighed. "All right, Miss Granger, you can brew. I will create a separate station for you. You must never touch my cauldron or ingredients without permission."

I smiled in delight, despite his warnings. "Thank you, sir," I said. "You won't regret it."

"I'd better not," he said with a sneer.

Brewing potions for Snape, it turned out, ended up being the easiest part of learning how to heal. Using Snape's copy of _Therapeutic Brews_ and careful to follow his spidery notes in the margins ensured that by the end of the week, I had filled the storage cupboard with bottles of not only Blood-Replenishing Potion, but also Pepper-Up Potion, Calming Draught, Burn-Healing Paste, and Wound-Cleaning Potion.

It was my afternoons spent attempting to learn healing spells that became frustrating, as without any damaged persons to practice on, I had no idea if I was performing the spells correctly. I also desperately wanted to find out more about the hauntingly beautiful spell that Snape had used to heal himself, but could find no reference to it in any of the healing manuals I read.

In the end, I decided to ask Snape about the spell.

"Sir," I said, as we sat in our well-worn spots drinking tea, "the night you were injured, can you tell me about the healing spell you used?"

Snape looked up from the fire, which was flickering happily in the grate.

"It is of my own invention," he said silkily.

"That explains why it wasn't in any of the books I've been reading," I said, and Snape nodded knowingly.

"Can you teach it to me?" I asked hopefully. Snape stood from the sofa and began pacing in front of me, reminding me of my years in his classes at Hogwarts.

"Its use is primarily to heal slashes and cuts, and it is most effective if repeated three times. The incantation is Vulnera Sanentur. However, you cannot simply say the words," he said.

"You sang them," I said.

"Yes," he said, halting his feet and staring into the fire, so all I could see was the tip of his hawk-like nose sticking out beyond his lank curtains of hair. Then he began to demonstrate the notes, singing softly in his velvety tenor tones. As I listened to him, I felt my body begin to tingle in response, and I wondered, is the spell having an affect on me?

When he finished, I swallowed deliberately, for there seemed to be a strange lump in my throat. "You… you have a lovely singing voice, sir," I said, blushing slightly.

"Your turn, Miss Granger," he replied as if he hadn't heard me, turning and taking a seat on the sofa.

"All right," I said, sitting up straighter and gathering my courage. I felt oddly nervous, singing in front of Professor Snape, but after a moment I closed my eyes, remembering the tones from Snape's beautiful song, and did my best to repeat them.

"Your tone is adequate," said Snape smoothly. "Would you like to practice using the spell?"

"Yes, please," I said, feeling excited that I would finally get to practice for real, though not knowing how we might do it.

"Sit next to me," he said, and I did as I was told, taking a seat beside him. He began rolling up the sleeve on his right arm, and as comprehension dawned on how he was going to have me practice, he drew his wand across his flesh, leaving a deep cut. The man didn't even flinch, and soon scarlet beads began to bubble up from his skin.

"Sir!" I squeaked. "You—you're bleeding!"

"Then heal it, Miss Granger," snapped Snape. "Use the incantation and wave your wand over the injury. I don't want bloodstains on my sofa."

Trying not to panic as Snape's blood began to pool and run across his pale flesh, I took hold of my wand.

_You can do this, Hermione._

I took a deep breath, forcing my hand to stop shaking, and began the incantation, just as I had practiced, and was relieved to see the blood receding from his flesh.

"Not bad for a first attempt," said Snape. From him it was a glowing compliment, and I sighed in relief. "Be more confident. Your voice was shaking."

"Again," he said, and I hissed as he once again split open the cut on his arm with his wand. "Don't hesitate, Miss Granger. In a real scenario, seconds can mean death."

The words and memories of him bleeding out in the Shrieking Shack spurred me on. Once again I raised my wand, and focused hard on keeping my voice steady and even while I sang the incantation. The blood once again receded into Snape's flesh.

Again and again Snape cut open his arm, forcing me to heal him until I no longer flinched and my actions and voice were smooth. I was tiring when he finally told me we'd done enough.

"Thank you, sir," I said. "You really didn't have to do that."

"As I am the professor in the room, I think decisions about what is required for you to learn effectively lie with me," said Snape, rolling his sleeve back down over his arm, which showed no signs of injury.

I really didn't know what else to say. The man had cut into his own flesh so that I could learn to heal, for Merlin's sake! The whole thing was utterly beyond comprehension. And yet, I found I did feel confident enough in my ability to perform the spell that if a situation arose where I needed to heal Snape, I thought I could do it.

I watched Snape's sinuous hands do up the buttons on his sleeve, his long fingers flicking the silver nubs confidently through their holes. He really was a truly fascinating man, and I wondered if I'd ever understand him.

As I watched, he reached forward and gently picked up his book from the coffee table. He ran two fingers over the words _Aenigmate Obscurus_ pressed in silver onto the cover, then brought it to his body. Making a perch for the volume with his long fingers, he opened the pages like a flower, and I felt my body inching towards his imperceptibly, completely entranced in watching this man read. I'd never met a man—or a woman, for that matter—who loved books or read as ravenously as I did. To see him show such obvious care for the tome was somehow oddly exciting, and I watched intently as his index finger slowly moved back and forth across the spine in a gentle caress. As he grasped the corner of a page, turning it over as if it was a delicate petal, my tongue slowly ran over my lower lip, imagining what other things Professor Snape might do with those beautiful, powerful hands. Feeling the wetness of my saliva on my lips made me suddenly aware of the fact my heart was pounding in my chest, and my eyes widened as Snape smoothed the page with the backs of his fingers.

_What in Merlin's name are you doing?!_

Realising that I was getting turned on watching Professor Snape— _Professor Snape!_ —read his book, I straightened up, blushing as scarlet as the blood I'd vanished from his arm earlier. Praying he hadn't noticed my obvious staring, I quickly grabbed my copy of _Advanced Physick and Surgery_ , curling my legs under me as I made a serious effort to read a paragraph on healing injuries to the pancreas. Unfortunately, my mind was busy arguing wildly with itself, and I don't think I took in a single word.

_What the hell, Hermione? He was your professor for six years!_

_Yes, well, you never did think he was as ugly or greasy as the boys did, did you?_

_You are supposed to save his life, not bloody fantasise about him! What would he do if he knew what you were thinking?!_

_I know. I know! I'm just lonely or something. That's it. I miss Ron._

Except I knew that I did not, in fact, miss Ron in that way. I missed his friendship and his company, but even though I'd kissed him in fit of passion during the final battle, I knew as soon as he abandoned Harry and me in the Forest of Dean that I would never, ever be able to have the relationship with him I'd been dreaming about since third year. I knew then that in his heart he didn't trust me, and that severed my desire for him as easily as a knife cutting through string.

Admittedly there was a time during our hunt for Horcruxes—before Ron left Harry and me alone in the forest—when I thought Ron and I were a sure thing. Sure enough that when we were at Grimmauld Place and Harry was out on a reconnaissance mission at the Ministry of Magic, I made love to that red-headed boy. I hadn't meant to go that far; really, I just wanted to kiss him, to see what he tasted like. But as our clothes came off and his hands scraped over my naked body with such an intense desire it made me feel like I was on fire, I decided I wasn't going to stop him if he wanted to go all the way. The fact was, there was a really good chance we were going to die before we killed Voldemort, and I thought I might as well go to my grave knowing that I'd lost my virginity to someone I loved.

Even after Ron abandoned us in the forest, I didn't regret it. I hated him for leaving me and breaking my heart, but I didn't regret what we'd done.

The thing was, though, I stopped daydreaming about him while he was gone. And when he came back, I no longer felt a thrill go through me when he looked at me, or hugged me, or said my name.

I certainly didn't fucking fantasise about his fingers as he turned the pages of a book.

Sighing audibly, I closed my book in my lap and put it gently on the coffee table, knowing there was no way I was going to understand a thing that night, even if I could force myself to read.

"Something the matter?" asked Snape, looking at me curiously. His eyebrows rose in a question and his lips curled into something that resembled partly a sneer and partly a smile.

_Merlin, he's handsome._

_Shit._

_No, Hermione, no! You are not attracted to Professor Snape!_

I cleared my throat. "No," I said, "I think I'm going to go and have a bath, and then go to bed."

"Sleep well, Miss Granger," said Snape, a hint of a smile lifting his lips once more.

_Not bloody likely._

"Thanks, Professor," I said calmly. "And thanks for earlier."

"I could…" he paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to his book before moving back to mine, "teach you other healing spells as well, if you'd like."

"I'd like that," I said, trying to ignore the thrum of my veins as my heart began pumping blood a little harder than it really needed to at his offer.

"Tomorrow, then," he said with a nod of his head.

"Tomorrow," I confirmed, nodding back. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight… Hermione."

_Oh fucking shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._


	9. Refusals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Feeling quite flabbergasted over the positive response this fic is getting. THANK YOU! Please keep leaving comments. It's very motivating to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

**Chapter 9: Refusals**

Fortunately, thanks to Ron, I had a lot of practice ignoring being attracted to male friends. The trick was to distract myself with other things, so I threw myself headlong into learning how to heal and into improving my potion making.

Snape actually turned out to be a much better teacher one-on-one than he was in a classroom. He seemed to have more patience, and his jabs and insults were far less numerous than I remembered. Besides healing spells, which for the most part thankfully involved fewer injuries than when I'd learned Vulnera Sanentur, he also taught me how to make some of the more difficult restorative potions, like Dreamless Sleep Potion and a Curse-Binding Potion.

Things between Professor Snape and me were pretty much normal, following along in a steady routine until one night in early December.

We were just sitting down to our after-dinner tea when I heard footsteps coming from his office. I looked up at Snape, whose lips were turned into a narrow frown as he listened intently.

"Severus, where are you?" called a gruff female voice that I recognised as belonging to Alecto Carrow. Snape's form instantly went rigid on the couch across from me, his hand going to his wand.

"In your bedroom are you?" said Alecto coyly. "How perfect."

"Hide! Quickly!" Snape snapped at me, vanishing the tea set with a flick of his wand, and striding towards the door. I didn't hesitate to follow his instructions, running to the bedroom and pulling Harry's Invisibility Cloak out of the dresser so quickly that two pairs of underwear came flying out with it. I shoved them back hastily and, just as I was about to throw the cloak over my head, I noticed my cot sitting by the wall. Not wanting to leave Snape explaining why there was a second bed in his rooms, I vanished it with a whispered, "Evanesco," then quickly donned the cloak. Tiptoeing beside the wardrobe to ensure I was hidden, I prayed Snape would keep her away lest I be discovered.

"Good evening, Alecto, can I help you?" came Snape's smooth voice as if nothing was wrong.

"Going to let me upstairs?" asked Alecto. "I've always wanted to see your quarters."

"It would be better if we discussed whatever is on your mind in my office," said Snape cooly.

"Oh, don't be such a pussy, Severus," said Alecto, and then I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and the door opening into the sitting room. I stiffened under the cloak, my hand gripped tightly on my wand.

"Alecto," said Snape, a tone of warning in his normally silky voice.

"I've been punishing the Longbottom boy," said Alecto, her voice excited and greedy. "It's made me feel rather horny, Severus."

I had to stop myself from sucking in a loud breath, instead swallowing as I sat huddled against the wall. _Was Alecto Carrow trying to come on to Snape?_

"Oh, don't stare at me like that, Severus. We've had our fun in the past," said Alecto, and I could tell she was trying to sound sexy, but her voice came out in a wheeze. "You've been locking yourself in this tower far too often, Severus. Wouldn't you like to fuck me? I'll let you do me from behind like you enjoy."

_Oh fucking hell_. This was way too much. Alecto and Snape? I gritted my teeth and suppressed a shudder, horrified at listening further but unable to stop myself.

"Kindly remove your hands from my person, Alecto, before you regret it," hissed Snape dangerously. "I do not want to fuck you."

"You're so tense, Severus. You can Crucio me a bit if it would get you in the mood," said Alecto, apparently not getting the hint.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear: I will not now, nor in the future, ever fuck you again, Alecto," said Snape darkly. "Now kindly get out of my rooms."

"But, Severus!" whined Alecto.

"I said get out, witch!" shouted Snape. "Or I will tell the Dark Lord you are disobeying my orders!"

"Fine, but don't come looking for me for relief when you've got blue balls from Pansy Parkinson," snapped Alecto. "Don't think I haven't seen the little slut flirting with you."

_Snape and Pansy-fucking-Parkinson?!_ I wanted to faint. No, I wanted to scream and then faint.

"Out!" Snape screamed, and I heard the door slam and then the sound of smashing glass and footsteps passing through his office once more.

"You can come out now, Miss Granger," said Snape in a flat voice a few moments later. "It's safe."

_Great, and now he's back to 'Miss Granger,' too._ He'd been calling me Hermione ever since the night he taught me Vulnera Sanentur.

I took off the cloak and put it in my pocket in case Alecto decided to come back for another attempt, and went back out into the sitting room, where Snape was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"Is everything okay, Professor?" I asked nervously.

"Just wonderful," he said sarcastically.

"Should I get us more tea?"

"Yes, fine," snapped Snape, his brows furrowed into a deep scowl as he continued his steps back-and-forth across the dark wood floor.

I conjured us our normal silver tea set and white cups, and set to pouring us both drinks while I tried to process what I had just heard.

_Snape slept with Alecto. Snape fucking slept with Alecto! And Pansy Parkinson was flirting with him too!_

Of course, he was an older man. I assumed he would have had sex at least once or twice, if not more. He was human after all; he'd get horny… but Alecto? And Pansy?

This time I did allow myself to shudder. Unfortunately, Snape seemed to notice.

"I suppose you heard all that, did you?" he snapped, stopping his paces to glare at me.

"Yes, sir," I answered, not daring to look him in the eyes.

_He slept with Alecto. Fucking Alecto! The one who's been torturing your friends!_

An awkward silence filled the room as he continued to stare at me.

"Um, tea?" I asked, holding out his cup. He sighed and took it from me, sitting down forcefully on the sofa so his tea splashed over the side of his mug and onto the floor.

"Miss Granger, I—"

"Please, call me Hermione," I said, forcing myself to look at him. Despite knowing he'd touched her _down there_ , I didn't think I could stand him going back to being so formal with me. I wouldn't let Alecto Carrow ruin the progress in our friendship.

"Hermione," he said, his face now fixed into an emotionless, unreadable stare. He took a sip of his tea before looking at me again. "Hermione, I want you to know, there are things that I've done, that I've needed to do in order to ensure my favour with the Dark Lord. I am not proud of them, but they were necessary at the time."

My eyes widened as I realised he was explaining to me why he had slept with Alecto Carrow: he'd needed to in order to keep his cover. I didn't really understand how the situation might come about, but I wasn't about to question it.

"Sir, you really don't need to justify yourself," I said in a rush, my voice sounding oddly high-pitched in my ears. "Look, it's really none of my business who you sleep with—or flirt with for that matter!"

I saw Snape's jaw tighten and he took another tense sip of his tea.

"While I cannot deny that Miss Parkinson has been rather… overtly friendly with me lately," he said, his black eyes resting on my hands, "I would like to assure you that I would never take advantage of a student. I have never, nor do I intend to… respond to Miss Parkinson's advances," he finished in a gruff voice.

I wondered if Snape refused to look at my face because it was a deep shade of maroon. My night had officially gone from bad to downright bizarre. What was I supposed to say to that: 'Thank Merlin, Professor, I thought you were a sex-crazed sicko that liked to get your jollies off with Death Eaters and students'?

Instead, I opted for a mumbled, "It's really none of my business, sir."

Another awkward silence ensued as we both sipped our tea and stared at the floor. Was this what our evenings were going to be like from now on? Would I sit here and think about Snape rutting Alecto Carrow from behind?

_He had to, Hermione. If the Dark Lord put him up to it, he didn't have a choice._

Scrunching my brows, I tried to decide if I even cared that he'd slept with her. Part of me was admittedly disgusted, because she was a sadistic, bigoted Death Eater. But then I wondered how he must have felt being forced to… to do _that_ with her.

I looked up under my brows towards Snape. He was still staring at the floor, his brows creased and his eyes glittering in a look of concern I'd never seen before. And then I realised his look was one of deep shame.

My breath hitched in my throat. He regretted it, and he was ashamed that I'd found out. But why? Did he think that I'd hate him for what he'd done? Even when he was forced to do so to ensure his own survival?

"Sir?" I asked in a wobbly voice. He looked up at me, and I saw another emotion in his bottomless ebony eyes that I'd never seen before: fear.

_Was this part of why he hated himself? Part of why he wanted to die? Because of the things he'd been forced to do as a spy?_

I took a deep breath and stood up from the sofa, putting my tea down on the coffee table as I passed, and then sat beside him, his eyes following me the whole way.

"Severus," I said, reaching out and putting my hand on his arm. He flinched at my touch, but did not pull away. "I know you'd never do anything inappropriate with your students. And I know you probably have to do a lot of terrible things as a spy. I get it. It's okay."

"Don't be naive," he said darkly, his eyes shifting to blank pools once more. "None of what I must do is okay." He moved his arm out from under my touch, and I brought my hand back to my lap so it didn't fall on his thigh.

"It doesn't mean it's your fault," I said, frowning. What else was this man keeping hidden from everyone? From me?

"Sins of omission," he said simply.

"No, Severus," I said, unsure why I was suddenly using his first name, but thankful he wasn't yelling at me for it. "Look, I've had to do some terrible things too. So has Harry. So has Dumbledore. We all have. That's war!"

Snape turned his head away from me, his long curtain of raven hair partially concealing his face.

"Severus, look at me," I said, my heart pounding in my chest. Why couldn't he see how brave he was? How brilliant he was? How none of us would survive without him?

Feeling desperate to stop the widening gap I felt growing between us, I reached and touched his chin, pulling his face towards me. He did not pull away, but his eyes looked downward in refusal to meet my own.

My body took over at that point. I don't even remember thinking. His jaw was firm beneath my fingers, and I ran my thumb across its edge, feeling a light stubble prickle my skin. Then I was lifting myself forward, licking my lips, and placing them gently over his in a kiss.

I felt his mouth open in response, an exhale of breath against my skin, and I thought for a moment he was going to accept my desire, my attempt to get closer to this brilliant, beautiful man. But then suddenly he grabbed my wrists and pushed me backwards, and flew from the couch in a billow of robes.

He stood in the middle of the room, his eyes wide and filled with a terrifying anger.

"I—I'm sorry, Severus," I stammered. "I don't know what—"

"I do not need your pity, Miss Granger!" he shouted, making me blink.

"Pity? Wha—What are you talking about?" I said, thoroughly confused.

"I will not accept your pitying attempts to make me feel better!" he snapped.

"Pitying attempts to make you feel better?" I asked incredulously. He thought I would kiss him out of sympathy? That I'd throw myself at him out of pity? Who did he think I was?

"Look, I don't know what you think just happened," I said loudly, "but I did not kiss you out of pity. How could you think that?"

He glared at me, apparently taking a moment to appraise my words. "You can't seriously have me believe you wanted to kiss me," he growled.

"Yes, of course I wanted to kiss you! For a month, actually!" I shouted at him. Was that really so hard to understand? Was it such a bad thing he had to throw me away from him and accuse me of being underhanded?

Snape didn't seem to know how to respond to that, and so he spun on his heels and began pacing back and forth in front of me. I stared at him, not sure entirely what was going on.

_This evening has got to be some kind of joke_ , I thought. _Some kind of nightmare. Wake up, Hermione! Wake up!_

But it wasn't a joke or a nightmare, and in a few minutes Snape stopped and looked at me again, his face blank and passive once more.

"Miss Granger, there are conditions, when you're forced to be with someone for a long period of time," said Severus smoothly, and I knew exactly what he was going to say next. I felt bile rising into my throat, and a sharp pain my chest as if he'd sliced my heart open as easily as he'd carved his own arm during our healing practice.

"…You can think you have certain feelings, Miss Granger," he was saying, but I barely heard it. "It's lonely in the tower, and I am the only person available—"

"No!" I screamed, cutting him off. I was suddenly blind with rage. "How dare you! How dare you insult and disrespect me!"

"Miss Granger, I—" said Snape, looking taken aback by my sudden onslaught of anger.

"My name is Hermione!" I shouted, glaring at him. "I kissed you because I like you! I am not some weak child who doesn't know their own emotions! I don't kiss people out of pity! And I am certainly not some Slytherin Death Eater whore who flirts with or fucks people because they're lonely and horny!"

Snape looked really concerned now. His eyebrows were raised, and his eyes were glittering with fear once more.

"Fuck you!" I yelled, unable to stop myself, tears falling from my eyes. "Pity and loneliness! As if! You stupid, ignorant fool! How can you say those things to me? What have I ever done to make you think so little of me?"

And with that I ran into the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. I screamed as I conjured a new cot for myself, giving it bright red bedclothes instead of its normal grey.

_How dare he! Pity him! Because I was lonely! How dare he!_

This man was supposed to be brilliant, was supposed to be able to read minds! Couldn't he see I liked him, cared for him, desired him honestly? Couldn't he see how I looked at him during our lessons and over tea? Couldn't he tell that every time he said my name or I watched his hands, I wanted him a little more?

I vaguely remember hearing the click of the door, but only buried my face farther into my pillow as I cried.

_Leave me alone_ , I thought. _Leave me alone._

I heard the door shut quietly and felt relief. I couldn't handle facing him right now, after being so grievously insulted. But it was more than that; I felt rejected. And shouldn't I have known that was what was going to happen? He'd just said he would never take advantage of a student. And that's clearly all I was to him: an annoying student who'd forced her way into his rooms and his life; someone to be put up with for eight months until he could die in peace like he wanted.

I thought I was his friend. I thought, maybe, he might see me as something other than the insufferable know-it-all. But I was wrong.

There was no doubt about it. I'd kissed Severus Snape, and he'd refused me completely.


	10. Lip Lock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta AdelaideArcher. Mistakes are mine.

**Chapter 10: Lip Lock**

I woke up the next morning with a moan, flashes of the prior evening flitting through my mind: screaming at Snape, listening to him justify sleeping with Alecto, and, most of all, kissing him. There was a moment, just before he'd pulled away, when his lips opened to mine, that felt so unbelievably good. And then it had all gone so, so wrong.

I scrunched my eyes shut, feeling beyond stupid for how I'd acted.

_Why did I kiss him?_

He'd never shown any inkling that his feelings for me were anything beyond platonic. Most of the time he was barely friendly. Tolerant, teacherly, sarcastic—those were words that described how he acted towards me.

Though, he did explain his reasons for sleeping with Alecto. He should have just yelled at me and told me to keep my mouth shut—that's what I would have expected him to do. But for some reason he'd felt the need to justify his actions. Why? Did he really care what I thought of him?

But how could that be when he obviously thought so little of me? Admittedly my kiss was completely out of line, but certainly I'd shown myself to be of better stuff than the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Alecto Carrow, hadn't I? I'd never thrown myself at anyone other than Ron, and that was after liking him for four years and being certain that he returned my affections.

So why had I done it? Why did I kiss Snape?

It was impulsive. It was reckless. It was thoughtless. It was so _not me_.

Where the hell had the controlled, logical, thoughtful, patient Hermione gone? The one that listened and tried to understand what others were thinking and feeling before she acted?

Had the last year of the war changed me that much?

Or was it one night, when I lay screaming and writhing on the floor in pain as a wild-haired Death Eater slowly drained my life away with each wave of her wand, each slice of her dagger?

I rolled over onto my side and pulled the covers more snugly around me, my eyes staring but not focused on anything in particular.

I'd thought about that night so little since it happened. There was a day or two at Shell Cottage where I allowed myself to cry, but then we'd been on the hunt for Horcruxes again, making plans to break into Gringotts, and I'd pushed it to the back of my mind.

I ran my finger across the thin line that still ran beneath my jaw. Had something changed in me that night? Or was it later, during the final battle? Or perhaps earlier, when I'd modified my parents' memories, or when Ron left me in the forest?

I chewed on my lip, not finding any answers in my mind, only more questions.

Realising that my current train of thought was not going to help me patch things up with Snape or help me convince him to live, I sighed and rolled out of bed.

* * *

Snape didn't return that night for tea. It wasn't completely unusual, though he normally left a note if he was going to be away.

On the second day that Snape didn't turn up, I thought he probably needed some space after our fight, but once he calmed down in a few days he'd return and we could talk.

After four days, I started to wonder if he was avoiding me. It was something I'd never expect Snape would do; he'd always seemed rather forthright in dealing with things—cunning, cruel and manipulative, perhaps, but not one to avoid something just because it was uncomfortable. Unless something else was wrong, of course, but it didn't seem like it; I could still hear him in his office during the day having meetings, talking with the portraits, or simply pacing back and forth in a steady rhythm.

By the seventh day, I'd had enough. The man was clearly avoiding me, and I wasn't about to let it happen any longer. I refused to give up on my mission; I also thought I'd go insane if I had to spend five more months cooped up in his tower alone like a bushy-haired Rapunzel. No, I was not one to wait around to be rescued. It was time to act.

I waited until the end of the day, when I knew his final meetings would be over, but he was still in his office. Donning Harry's Invisibility Cloak, I took a steadying breath and opened the one door I was not supposed to. His wards, thankfully, did not appear to include a Caterwauling Charm, and so I continued down the steps towards his office.

Snape was sitting at Dumbledore's old desk, writing something on a piece of parchment, his shoulders hunched forward and his hair falling over his shoulders so I could see only a small triangle of pale skin at the back of his neck amongst an otherwise black form.

"I thought I told you to stay in my quarters, Miss Granger," he said smoothly, unmoving, as I crept out from the doorway, and I jumped.

"How did you—?" I asked quietly.

He lifted his head and turned around with a sneer, but I could tell he could not see me; his eyes scanned the back of the room as if trying to pick up a shimmer of fabric, a hint of my form, but they always passed over me.

"My wards, Miss Granger," he said with a sigh. "Go back to my chambers."

I huffed, remembering why I was down here in the first place. I wasn't going to be turned around easily.

"Why haven't you been to your rooms in a week?" I asked, keeping my distance in case he tried to reach out.

"I would have thought the reason would be perfectly obvious," he drawled, his dark eyes still searching for me beneath his scowl.

I narrowed my eyes beneath the cloak and took a careful step forward.

"I'm really sorry for kissing you, Professor," I said, "but you can't avoid me forever."

"I could if you bothered following my instructions, Miss Granger," said Snape smoothly. "Though I suppose that is too much to ask of a Gryffindor."

Gods, he was infuriating sometimes.

"Please come back upstairs," I said. "We need to talk."

"I don't see what there is to talk about," he said, his face blank as he continued to scan the room. "You made it perfectly clear you wished to be left alone."

"I never said anything of the sort," I snapped.

"Does 'leave me alone' have another meaning I am unaware of?"

I blinked. When had I ever said that to him? I'd sworn, I'd told him I felt insulted, but I never said 'leave me alone,' except when I was in my room, I thought…

"You used Legilimency on me again!" I shouted.

Snape did not answer me, but I knew it was true.

"I thought you trusted me," I hissed, feeling hurt all over again.

"Miss Gr—"

"Hermione," I interrupted him. "Look, I admit I made a mistake kissing you, but that doesn't give you the right to insult me, and it doesn't give you the right to go looking in my head!"

Snape sighed. "Go back upstairs, _Miss Granger_."

"Not unless you come with me," I said firmly, wondering why he had to make this so difficult.

"Go upstairs!"

"Not without you!"

Snape's nostrils flared as he huffed in rage, but he stood from his seat and strode over to the concealed door to his chambers.

"After you, sir," I said calmly, following him inside, being sure to stay out of reach.

Once we were safely back in his quarters with the door shut, and I was sure he wasn't going to simply flee again, I took off the cloak. We stood in the centre of the room facing each other like mirrors, arms folded over our chests and glaring sourly at each other.

"Look," I began, deciding I would be the bigger person and apologise for what seemed like the hundredth time, "I'm sorry for kissing you, and I'm sorry for yelling, but I didn't want you to stop talking to me—there's a reason I don't voice all my thoughts. Honestly, I was hurt by what you said. I was insulted that you'd think I was… throwing myself at you like Pansy or Alecto, or that I was kissing you in a way that insulted you," I tried to explain.

"Then would you care to explain why you… attacked my person in such a way?" he asked, his expression unchanged.

"I told you the other night," I said.

"I refuse to believe you actually—how did you so eloquently put it—'like me'," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Your refusal doesn't make it untrue," I said, not understanding why he found it so hard to believe. Though, he did want to die. Was it possible he hated himself that much?

Snape raised an eyebrow at me, and for a moment I thought he was going to use Legilimency again, but instead his frown softened somewhat and he rubbed his temple.

"It would be better if you did not feel that way," he said softly, not really looking at me.

Clearly, this was not a conversation he wanted to be having. Not that it was one I wanted to have either.

"I understand you don't feel the same way about me, Severus. Again, I'm sorry for kissing you, and I'll control myself in the future."

"You'd better," he said.

"It won't happen again, I promise. Please forgive me. I don't want one kiss to get in the way of our friendship," I said, looking at him imploringly. His gaze snapped back to mine, his lips rising in a sneer.

"When have I ever given you impression that we were friends?" he said silkily, and though he didn't move I felt like he'd hit me with a Stupefy.

Grappling for words, I spewed, "Gee, I don't know, maybe when I healed you?" I stood tall, forcing myself to stay strong and not to cry.

"That was a mistake," he said, looking down his nose at me as if I was a fleck of irritating dust.

_Don't curse him. Don't do it. He's trying to make you hate him. He has to be—right?_

"Then why did you teach me to heal? Or was that a mistake too? Is everything nice you've ever let me do for you or done for me a mistake?" I asked, my voice verging on a shriek.

"For an insufferable know-it-all, you ask far too many questions," he said smoothly, avoiding my questions.

"For a brilliant professor, you give far too few answers," I snapped back.

We stared at each other for several minutes, Snape's face irritatingly blank, giving none of his thoughts away. Part of me wanted to shake him, to hex him over and over again until he told me what he really thought, what he really felt about me, and why he wanted to die, but I knew that was impossible. Severus Snape was like an impenetrable fortress; unless I could find some secret weakness, some tiny crack, and blow it to smithereens to make a hole, there was no way I could get inside.

_There was a reason Dumbledore gave you eight months, remember?_

"I should go to dinner," said Snape finally, breaking our stand-off. I sighed, thinking that I may need eight _years_ to figure this man out.

"At least promise me you'll come back after for tea?" I asked. After all, I still needed to see the man if I was going to figure this out.

"I suppose if I don't you'll come find me?" he glowered at me.

I was unable to stop my lips from quirking into a small grin. "Of course," I said, some confidence returning to my voice. "You wouldn't want to put me in danger, would you?"

Severus frowned. "You know, you are quickly becoming more infuriating than Potter."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said. Harry was, after all, one of my best friends and someone I cared about deeply.

"You shouldn't," said Snape, but his voice lacked the venom that said he was being serious.

"But I will," I said with a defiant smile. "Promise me you'll come back?"

"Fine," hissed Snape.

"Say it," I said, thinking I sounded a little bit like my mother.

Snape growled in frustration before muttering, "I promise, Miss Granger."

"Hermione," I corrected him for the umpteenth time and his eyes narrowed, but before he could respond I said, "Have a good dinner, Severus. I'll see you later," and turned my back on him, sitting on the couch to await my own meal.

Snape only nodded his head and then slipped out the door, and I wondered if he'd really come back or if I'd have to find a way to drag him out of the Great Hall.

As it turned out, Snape apparently kept his promises and did return for tea that evening. I tried my best to pretend like everything was normal despite his deep scowl and the far too dramatic way he flung himself onto the sofa after entering the room, and poured him a cup of tea the way I knew he liked it.

Snape didn't say a word, but did grunt when I asked him later if he'd like a refill. Mostly, he kept his face hidden behind his ancient copy of _Aterdrincan_.

I did my utmost not to watch his elegant hands as he cradled the black leather tome in his long fingers, although my own book was not nearly as interesting to me as his digits.

_He doesn't like you that way, Hermione. You're just going to have to find a way to get over him. Think about someone else. What about Ron?_

But the thought of being attracted to Ron again made me shake my head so furiously that my hair tangled in front of my eyes. After unsuccessfully attempting to blow it out of the way, I scraped my fingers through my mess of curls and resettled myself against the arm of the sofa, stretching my legs out in front of me.

_At least this way it's easier not to look at him and his damn hands._

It took far longer than it should have, but I finally forgot about the dark wizard on the couch across from me and became thoroughly absorbed in a chapter on counter-curses. It only made sense then that only ten minutes after forgetting he was in the room I heard him clear his throat, ripping my consciousness once more towards him. Scowling and determined not to lose my hard-won concentration, I did not turn my head, and buried my face more deeply into my book.

"Hermione," he said quietly, and though I felt I should be annoyed at his audacity to remind me he existed when I was trying my hardest to forget him, the fact that he used my given name for the first time in over a week softened my resolve.

"Yes, Severus?" I asked, resting my book in my lap and turning to look at him curiously, praying he did not have some final scathing remark to make.

He cleared his throat again and ran a hand through his stringy locks, pushing them behind one ear. "The other night, I did not mean to insult or disrespect you. I apologise," he said softly, and to my surprise his words sounded completely genuine.

As if his apology wasn't enough, I saw that same glimmer of shame and fear in his eyes I'd seen the night of The Kiss.

Honestly, I was under the impression Severus Snape didn't _do_ apologies. But then, I'd also been previously unaware that he had feelings beyond loathing and frustration. It was yet another thing to add to my growing list of Surprising Things About Severus Snape.

Ignoring the fact my heart was doing somersaults in my chest, I smiled at him and said, "Thank you, Severus. You're forgiven."

He seemed to let out a breath, and then his visage returned to his expressionless gaze and he gave me a stiff nod before returning to his book.

Considering I wasn't expecting an apology, a return to normal conversation seemed too much to ask for, I supposed. But his words had given me a slight comfort, and so I returned to my own tome, thinking I still had tomorrow, and about five months worth of tomorrows after that to find the crack in his walls.

_One step at a time, Hermione. One step at a time._


	11. The Crack in His Fortress

**Chapter 11: The Crack in His Fortress**

"Are you looking forward to Christmas holidays?" I asked as I passed Severus a cup of tea on the Friday evening of the last day of classes before the two week break. Our evenings had returned to their fairly pleasant, routine state, filled with much reading and occasionally conversation that stayed firmly away from the night of The Kiss.

"I'm afraid it only means I can expect more summonses from the Dark Lord," said Snape in a resigned tone from his couch across from mine.

"I'm guessing the Dark Lord doesn't throw jolly parties or give out gifts?" I tried to joke even as I felt a sinking feeling in my gut, praying he would not return to me broken and bloodied over the next two weeks.

Severus, however, chuckled. "No, not typically," he said. "Though we are expected to give him something."

"Haven't you already given him enough?" I asked disbelievingly, ever so glad the snakelike bastard would be dead in a matter of months.

"Hermione, when you are a Death Eater, you are expected to give him _everything_ ," said Snape patiently. "Your body, your soul, your mind, your magic, your gold, your property, and your skills—they all belong to him and he can use them whenever and however he wishes."

"That's not exactly true for you though, is it?" I said with a small smile.

"No, not for me," he said with a sly grin, exposing the edge of his yellowed teeth.

"So what will you give him?" I asked curiously.

"Some rare potions," he said and took a sip of his tea.

"Will they help him?"

"Not too much, I hope," he said, and then his body stiffened and he clutched his left arm to his belly.

"Speak of the devil?" I asked forlornly.

"I'm afraid I must go," he said, putting his tea aside and standing from the sofa.

"Stay safe, Severus," I said.

"I'll be fine, Hermione. Please don't wait up for me," he replied. With that, he strode quickly out of the room, warding the door behind him.

* * *

Of course, I didn't follow his instructions and remained awake until he returned.

"I thought I told you to go to bed," he said as he spotted me on the sofa.

"How did it go?" I asked, putting my book on the coffee table next to the long cold tea service.

Severus sighed and flopped down on the sofa, leaning his head back and rubbing his temples.

"Not good then?"

Instead of answering me, Snape kicked off his boots and waved his wand so a fresh pot of tea appeared before us, tendrils of steam curling from the spout. He then filled us both cups, and I took mine with a quirk of my eyebrow, wondering what exactly had happened at the Death Eater meeting to make Severus act this way. Not that him serving me tea was all that unusual, but there was a tension in his body and a depth to his eyes that made me sure that something was wrong. He wasn't bleeding, so I'd have to be patient to find out what that something was.

When we'd both settled down comfortably on our respective sofas, Severus took a sip of tea and then began to speak.

"Do you know Xenophilius Lovegood?" he asked.

"Yes, that's Luna Lovegood's father. He runs _The Quibbler_ ," I answered.

"Well, Lovegood's been printing stories that have angered the Dark Lord, and he means to stop it," he said.

"I remember," I said simply, not wanting to elaborate on the fact that, now that I was thinking of it, Xenophilius was going to try to hand Harry, Ron and I over to the Voldemort in exchange for Luna.

_Tomorrow. She gets taken tomorrow_ , I thought sadly.

"Well, his daughter Luna—a friend of yours I believe," he said, and I nodded in confirmation, knowing where this was going, but interested in what Severus had to say none-the-less, "—is going to be taken tomorrow on her way back home for the holidays. It was the only way I could think of dissuading the Dark Lord from killing Xenophilius outright. I know it puts your friend in harm's way, but she won't be sent to Azkaban. I believe she'll be safe at Malfoy Manor."

"She'll be fine," I said, knowing that fact to be true. She'd also make friends with Ollivander during her captivity.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Well, yes, I saw her—or I will see her," I said. Severus's eyes darkened, and he shifted on the sofa uncomfortably.

"I thought you would be angry," he admitted. It was an odd statement, coming from Severus Snape. He wasn't one to lay his feelings on his sleeve for anyone to see. But perhaps that meant he really _did_ think we were friends after all?

"Angry at what? You haven't done anything wrong," I said. "Luna is going to be okay, and you just told me you did it to save her father's life."

Severus narrowed his eyes at me, not in an angry way, but as though he couldn't figure out what I was saying.

"Severus, honestly, I appreciate you telling me, and thank you for saving Luna's father," I said, wanting to prove my honesty.

Severus sighed, running his fingers over his Adam's apple. "You are far too kind," he muttered so quietly I could barely hear him. It was said with disdain, but even so, from Severus it was a glowing compliment.

"And maybe you deserve some kindness," I said, and took another sip of tea, thinking our conversation was over. But of course, this was Severus Snape, the man of an apparently infinite amount of surprises.

"How can you be so forgiving?" he asked forlornly.

I looked at him, not sure if he was actually serious, and was startled when I saw the pained expression on his face. He looked at me imploringly, letting his stubborn walls fall from his face, and I knew I needed to answer him seriously.

"People make mistakes— _I've_ made mistakes. Most people deserve a second chance, especially if you care about them," I said.

"No matter what they did?" asked Severus, his voice still silky, but with a pleading undertone that took me off guard.

"No, not no matter what," I said carefully. "And sometimes you can forgive and not forget. But it depends, doesn't it? On intentions, and how often it's happened before, and the circumstances. It's not always simple. But if you care about someone, you at least need to give them the chance to explain. And more often than not I think forgiveness is warranted, especially if the person seems honestly remorseful."

Severus was quiet for a moment, as if considering what I'd said, and then he asked, his voice barely a whisper, "What if I called you a Mudblood?"

"Well," I said, trying not to appear shocked at such an odd question. "Like I said, it would depend on the circumstances. In what context would you be calling me a Mudblood?"

"Don't say it," said Severus, shaking his head, the ends of his thin hair flicking back and forth across his shoulders. "It doesn't matter, never mind," he said, turning his head away from me.

Clearly it did matter very much, from the way he was staring at the fire, as if a ghost might rise out of the ashes to flay him.

"Would you mean it like You-Know-Who means it?" I asked, thinking another approach was warranted.

"No!" he blurted, turning to me with wide eyes as if shocked I'd even suggest it. I smiled, hoping to calm him.

"Then I'd probably forgive you, especially if you apologized after. At least, I'd try to understand the reason why you said it," I said, thinking this was the last conversation I ever expected to be having with the normally stern and guarded headmaster.

My answer seemed to pain Severus greatly, and he covered his face with his hands, so all I could see was the tip of his long nose and pieces of his bushy black eyebrows as they furrowed into a deep V.

I realised then that perhaps these were not such random questions, that he wasn't trying to understand me so much as his own situation—one I clearly knew too little about.

"Severus," I said, treading carefully. "Did something happen? Did you call someone a Mu—that—who didn't forgive you?"

He lifted his head and stared at me incredulously, his eyes wide and searching.

"Potter… he didn't…?" he said, his hoarse voice trailing off in a question.

"What about Harry, Severus?" I said, confused at the mention of my best friend, but Severus didn't answer me. Slowly I lifted myself from my couch and sat gently next to him, his eyes following me as I did so.

"Severus," I said, "please tell me: do you think you don't deserve forgiveness for something?"

"I—" he began, and then his face contorted into a strange mixture of anger and despair. He clasped the front of his robes as if he was in great pain and his shoulders lurched forward, his breath wild and unsteady.

"Severus!" I squeaked. Not knowing if he was in physical pain, I cast a diagnostic charm over him, only to find him perfectly healthy. And yet to my eyes he'd never appeared so fragile as he did then, his body curled in on itself, his eyes squeezed shut, and his breath coming in great wheezing gasps. Even when he was in a murderous rage he was predictable and strong. But this, this was completely out of character for the man I knew as Severus Snape, and I had no idea what to do to stop him from physically crumbling in front of me.

"Severus," I said timidly. "Severus, what's wrong?"

Tentatively, I reached out and touched his shoulder, smoothing my hand along the thick fabric of his robes. I wasn't expecting the reaction I received: suddenly his arms were around me and gripping me so hard I thought he might crush me. His face was in my hair, his long nose resting in the space between my neck and my shoulder, and I could feel his heavy breathing hum against my chest.

I put my arms around him and drew him into a hug, the only thing I could think of doing at that moment. I had no idea why, but he seemed to need comfort, and I only hoped I could give it to him.

"Severus, it's okay," I said, resting my cheek against his head and running my hand down his curving spine. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you deserve forgiveness."

I felt him stiffen in my arms, and then he moved like a swift panther, pushing me backwards onto the couch and mauling my lips with his own. It took me several seconds to realise what was happening, and then all I could sense was stars exploding in front of my eyes.

And then his tongue snaked its way into my mouth.

Death Eater meetings, Mudbloods, forgiveness, and whatever else we'd been talking about left my mind as quickly as a startled deer. This man clearly wanted me, and I wanted him, had wanted him desperately for months, and now his hands were rubbing my sides as he perched over me, bruising my lips with passionate kisses.

I let out a deep moan and my hands came into his hair, pulling him down to me as I opened my mouth wider and met his wet, fleshy tongue with my own.

His hands began tugging at my robes, pulling them upwards and I quickly shifted beneath him so he was able to pull them away from my body. As our lips broke apart so he could pull the robes over my head, his eyes locked with mine. Their burning depths made my insides melt. With a single look the man had set me on fire.

As my robes were thrown to the floor, his lips quickly claimed mine again, tasting me hungrily, and then suckling the delicate flesh next to my jugular. My hips rose instinctively against his body, his lips on my flesh adding rocket fuel to the blaze inside me, and my fingers scraped up his back.

He trailed hungry kisses down my body, pulling the lace cups of my bra downwards to expose my breasts and their aching, pebbled nipples. He took one into his mouth, laving it with his tongue and then taking it between his teeth, making me moan and arch my back against him.

His beautiful hands I admired so much had worked their way between my thighs, where a pool of hot lava had formed at my centre, and he briskly tugged off my knickers as his mouth continued to attend to my wanting breasts.

"Severus," I hissed as his long fingers slipped between my wet lower lips and found my clit, making sweet circles of pleasure against it. My eyes had drooped close, and my entire world narrowed to his hands and his mouth and the dazzling fire they were stoking inside me.

I felt myself on the edge of orgasm, and suddenly felt the unrepentant urge to have his cock inside me, claiming my body as his own.

"Severus, please," I begged wantonly, the bright spark in my groin threatening to overtake me. "I want you inside me."

His mouth broke from my nipple and he looked up at me, his fingers slowing their ministrations and then dipping inside me, making my hips jerk.

"Please, Severus," I said, bending my knee and rubbing my shin against his stiffened erection through his robes. His eyes fluttered shut, his long eyelashes like raven crescents against his pale cheeks, and then he moved swiftly away from me in a flutter of robes.

His dextrous fingers made quick work of the buttons on his clothing and then he was tugging them over his head, letting them fall to the floor in a silent cascade. His eyes continued to burn into mine as he pulled off his boxers, revealing his throbbing erection. I hastily pulled off my bra and knickers and licked my lips, desperately wanting him to touch me again as I took in his lithe, sinuous body standing over me.

"Come, Severus," I said huskily, reaching my arms out to him, "I want you now."

He moved over top of me and claimed my lips once more, and I spread my legs to allow him to settle between them. I reached down and took his penis in my hand, stroking his rock hard length a few times before bringing it in line with my opening and lifting my hips so he was resting against it. He took himself inside me in one long sweeping motion, and I moaned as I felt my body adjusting to his intrusion and he began to rock inside me.

My fingers grabbed at his buttocks, pulling him deeper as he quickened his pace, his breath hot against my cheek as he panted in time with his hips, his strong arms perched on the armrest above my head. Once again I felt the fire building, a golden ember being fanned by his thrusts, and I began rocking my hips in time against his. My legs clamped around his hips and I closed my eyes, letting the sensations overtake me.

My mind had gone numb with the pleasure swirling through me like a tempest of Fiendfyre as we thrashed against each other, and then my orgasm exploded like a volcanic eruption, a wave of hot magma coursing through me. I screamed his name loudly, scraping my nails up his back as my body spasmed around his continued thrusts.

He jerked into me a few more times, and then I heard a deep grunting moan as he shuddered and came inside me, his semen slicking my channel as he continued to move back and forth until his penis began to soften.

Still panting from our exercise, he pulled out of me and collapsed to my side, pressed between my body and the back of the couch, his obsidian orbs staring unfocused across the room. His chest expanded up and out with his heavy breathing and I rolled onto my side and placed my hand on top of it, affectionately swirling my fingers through the small patch of black hair at his sternum.

"That was unexpected," I said, smiling like a Cheshire cat. I kissed his collarbone and drew my leg up over his hips, wanting to maintain our closeness.

Severus blinked at me several times as if awakening from a dream, and something changed in the depths of his eyes as they went wide and his hand grasped the one on my chest.

"Hermione, I—I—" he stammered, scrambling upwards like a trapped animal as he tried to push my hand towards me, his actions completely opposed to the possessive passion he'd shown only minutes before.

"Severus, it's okay," I said, my elation turning instantly into concern and confusion at his turn-of-face, not sure what had happened.

"What have I done?" he gasped hoarsely, peering down at my naked body, wetness still apparent between my thighs. His face was taught, his eyes terrified. "I shouldn't have. Hermione, I—"

"Severus, stop," I said, sitting up and trying to reach for him again, but he pulled away as if hit by an electric shock. "We both wanted it. I wanted it. You did nothing wrong."

"No," he said, flying over me and picking up his clothes from the floor. "No, we can't. I mustn't."

"What are you saying, Severus?" I asked, my voice sounding a bit desperate. He was making no sense at all. "What can't we do? What mustn't you do?"

"This was a mistake. I'm so sorry, Hermione. Please forgive me," he said, shoving on his boxers over his slick but wilted dick.

Not willing to leave things at that, I got up and marched towards him as he threw his robes over his head. I was still buck naked, but I didn't care. He'd seen my body, appeared to desire my body, and I wasn't going to be embarrassed about having sex with him.

He looked at me, his faced fixed in a blank stare as he finished buttoning the cuffs of his robes, and I steeled my Gryffindor courage, stepped forward confidently, and kissed him hard on the mouth, forcing my affection and desire into his lips.

"No, Hermione," he said, taking a hold of my wrists and pushing me back.

"No, what, Severus?" I asked. "No kissing? No sex? No being together?"

"No to all of it!" he shouted, pushing my arms to my sides and stepping back from me.

"Why, Severus? Don't tell me what we just did was a mistake. You obviously wanted it, and you knew I did. So what, did you just use me for sex, or is there another reason?"

"I—No, that's not it… I—I can't be involved with you, Hermione," he said lamely, his nostrils flaring.

"Why, Severus?" I asked. "Because you know I don't care that you're a spy, or that you're older than me, or whatever other stupid, insignificant reason you've made up in your head."

Severus's eyes flicked to the door as if he considered running for a moment, but then he looked back at me. His hands came over his face, reminiscent of his earlier actions before he'd pounced on me, and I waited patiently for some sort of response. When none seemed to be coming, I reached out once more and tugged at his hands, prying them away from his face.

"Why, Severus?" I asked gently. Severus stared at me, and my breath stopped at the amount of pain etched into his expression. His eyes looked as if someone had run him through with a knife.

"I can't betray her, Hermione," he whispered.

"Betray her?" I asked, frowning. Was he with someone else? No, I would have known. But then I remembered Harry telling me about Snape's memories just before I'd come back in time, and my eyes widened in realisation.

"Do you think that if you're with me, you're betraying Lily?" I asked.

He said nothing, but turned his head to the side, shielding his face with a curtain of ebony hair. Wishing I wasn't quite so naked this time, but feeling it would send the wrong message to go and get some clothes at this moment, I stepped forward again and grasped Severus's chin with my fingers, looking him in the eyes.

"Why do you think that? Why would you think that?" I asked softly. "She wasn't even _with_ you, Severus, and even if she was, don't you think she would want you to move on? That she would want you to be happy?"

"I betrayed her once, Hermione. I can't do it again," he said, his arms held stiffly by his sides.

I dropped my fingers from his face, but he didn't look away, and I felt such sorrow for this man I cared about so deeply, who obviously still hurt so much over a loss from so long ago.

"You didn't betray her, Severus. You didn't know the prophecy was about her—how could you? And you tried to save her, Severus," I said. "Vol—You-Know-Who was the one who killed her, Peter Pettigrew, even, but not you, Severus. _Not you_."

I prayed my words were making an impact, but I could see him hastily rebuilding the walls of his fortress inside his mind, and so I spoke once more.

"Is that why you want to die? Because you think you deserve the same fate as Lily?" I asked, but already knowing it must be true.

"I must go," he said, and pulled away from me, striding towards the door.

"Severus, wait!" I shouted as he pulled the door open and closed it soundly behind him, and I felt the wave of his wards wash through me as he set them.

I felt tears welling up behind my eyes, and I did nothing to stop them. Except I wasn't crying because he left me there, standing naked in his rooms, but because I suddenly realised the impossibility of my task, and that he would likely never accept my love, no matter how genuine it might be, no matter how much he might want me in return.

Wiping my eyes, I turned and padded towards the bathroom, feeling our combined juices seeping down my thighs.


	12. Blood, Flames, and Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Glad you all enjoyed the last chapter; keep those comments coming! For those of you concerned about a lack of contraceptives, pleased be assured there will be no unplanned pregnancies in this fic.
> 
> A warning that this chapter gets quite gory and angsty.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

**Chapter 12: Blood, Flames, and Tears**

The hot bath didn't dry my tears, which kept coming as I scrubbed myself clean, cast the spell I'd been taught in fourth year to guard against pregnancy, and then collapsed into bed without bothering to put on pajamas. I let the tears form a pool of dampness on my pillow as I stared at Severus's empty bed.

The truth was, I thought that all I had to do was get through his fortress walls. I didn't count on the fact that if I made it inside, I'd still have to battle the beast within the ramparts, the one that had refused to allow him any inch of happiness for the past 20 years, the one that honestly thought he deserved to die.

And with that thought I found myself wondering again how Dumbledore believed it was possible for me to save the life of Severus Snape. From their conversations in his office, I knew that Dumbledore's portrait was aware of Snape's desire to die before the end of the war. Why did he think I, a 19-year-old woman with zero medical or psychiatric training, could convince a man who wanted to die for 20-odd years to change his mind in the span of eight months?

If he was hoping that I would fall for Snape, well, he'd had that right. That Snape would fall for me? Considering tonight, he at least desired me on some level, so maybe that wasn't completely out of the question. But to want me enough to want to live? To love me more than the one woman he'd spent most of his life serving? Impossible. Laughable, even. I was nothing compared to Lily; I was a speck of dust beneath an old sofa in an abandoned room.

After Severus ran from me, I didn't expect him to come back. Based on what happened after The Kiss, I thought he'd avoid me for weeks, and I wasn't sure this time I wouldn't let him. For the first time since I arrived in his rooms, I felt completely hopeless about my mission. Based on what I now knew, forcing Severus to speak with me would not change his mind; it hadn't worked before and I doubted very much it would work now.

So I was surprised when, as I was drifting asleep, I heard the bedroom door open and saw Severus enter the room. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep so I wouldn't have to speak with him, because honestly I had no idea what to say and feared I would only melt into a puddle of tears in front of him. As I willed my breath to sleepy stillness, I heard the rustle of fabric and his feet softly step across the floor, and then I felt his presence appear next to my bed, making my skin tingle. He stood there for what seemed like minutes, and part of me desperately wanted to reach for him, but I focused on my breathing, making my breaths soft and deep and even, even as a lump formed in my throat. When I felt him move away and heard his bed creak, I risked opening one eye.

Severus sat on the edge of his bed, naked except for his boxers, his elbows on his knees as he stared at his hands. His head bowed over his thin frame, his black hair falling forward and covering his face so all I could see was the arch of his hooked nose. Then his right hand went to his left arm, tracing where I knew the Dark Mark scarred his skin, his elegant fingers stroking the flesh in large circles. His body heaved as if he'd taken a deep breath, and he let out a single choked sob that made my heart threaten to burst in my chest, but I stayed still, knowing there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do to comfort him—hadn't I already given it my best shot? Instead, I watched his body shake silently, wondering if tears were running down his cheeks hidden in shadows. Finally he lay back on the bed, rolling over so he faced away from me.

The fact that I still had his trust should have given me hope; instead my heart now felt like it was being hit with a Reductor Curse, exploding into fine particles of red blood and muscle as I stared at his bare back, covered in scars, and knowing that if I could see his heart, it would be covered similarly, lined and puckered by years of torment and pain.

Tears welled up in my eyes again and I let them fall silently to my pillow, wishing that I could mend the fissures of his broken heart, but knowing it was impossible.

I had failed. My goal was impossible. In four months there would be no more scars traced into his skin or his heart, because Severus Snape was going to die.

* * *

The next morning I awoke, stiff and sore, bathed in a warm yellow glow spilling in through the uncovered window near the foot of my bed, the bright sun belying my mood, which felt more like dark clouds threatening a storm. I chanced a glance towards Severus's four poster and found it vacant, the bedclothes crumpled in a heap near the centre where he'd thrown them aside.

I sighed, unsure if his absence made me feel better or worse. Somehow I managed to crawl out of bed and wondered what I might say to him when he returned for tea that evening— _if_ he returned for tea that evening. I thought then that maybe it was for the best that I had the day to think; I had yet to find much hope in Severus's actions and had no clue how to approach him or the following months now. If he was going to die, what was I to do? How could I enjoy his company knowing what was to come? Every time I looked into his bottomless eyes, watched him turn the pages of a book, heard his voice rumble, it would be a reminder of what would soon be no more.

I tried my best to follow my normal routine, but felt I had neither the motivation nor the energy, and so I gave up shortly after lunch and slumped down on the couch, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling. It was actually quite beautiful for a ceiling: large, dark beams crossed it in a grid pattern, the crossing points carved into swirling leaves and knobbly thistles like those often found on the grounds. In between the beams the ceiling was painted a muted gold, with one of each of the four Hogwarts House animals in each corner. I smiled sadly to find a red Gryffindor lion roaring above my head, which made me think of Harry and Ron.

I'd never been separated from my boys for so long, and suddenly I missed them terribly. I'd never really felt lonely in Severus's quarters until that moment, and I rubbed my eyes to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks.

I thought about the other-me, who was also suffering from a broken heart. But she had Harry for comfort and Ron was not planning to die; the task she and her friends had been set was achievable and together they would find success. I knew that sometime in my future, Ron and Harry were waiting for me; how would they feel when they found out I'd failed spectacularly at saving Severus? Would I see disappointment in their eyes?

My gaze shifted to the image of the curling Slytherin snake and for the first time in many months I thought of Severus's death. What I remembered most was the blood: the way it spilled out of his neck like a bubbling spring even as he tried to stop it with his hands, and the deep, slick pool of crimson that formed beneath his crumpled body. I also recalled the sadness in his eyes before they went blank, when he'd asked Harry to look at him, ensuring that his final moments would be of Lily's boy, of Lily's eyes.

If that wasn't proof of my utter failure, I didn't know what was.

Rolling over onto my side, I rested my head on my arm. I'd been so sure I could succeed when I arrived. Of course, that was before I knew the whole situation, before I really knew Severus and the demons he carried inside.

_Damn you, Dumbledore. Could you not have set a simple task for once?_

But I knew there was no point in blaming Dumbledore for my situation. I was the one who fell in love and I was the one who failed. I could spend years scouring through the world's biggest library and never find a way to make Severus want to live.

_Not so brilliant any more, are you?_

Unable to bear my thoughts any longer, I closed my eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep.

I dreamed of making love to Severus. We were on his bed and he was moving slowly above me, his eyes dark and his hair spilling over his shoulders, tickling my cheeks. He felt amazing pounding into me, heat radiating from his body into mine, and I was so focused on the pleasure of it all that I did not notice the sheets were soaked with blood until I clenched my hands in their folds, finding them squishy and wet between my fingers. I placed my hands back on Severus's lean arms, leaving red handprints on his biceps, but my dream-self was not yet concerned.

"Hermione," whispered Severus, and several drops of crimson trickled out of his mouth and dripped onto my bare chest as he rocked above me.

A tendril of panic sprouted in my chest at the sight, but he felt so good, so right sliding in and out of me that I did nothing except continue to rise my hips in time with his. The blood increased the harder he thrusted, and soon his lips and chin were coated with blood. It dribbled down his neck, painted lines across his chest, and splashed onto my naked body below him until my skin was like a splatter painting with only two colours: crimson blood on pale flesh.

"Hermione," he called as he orgasmed, his voice clear and smooth despite the scarlet liquid spilling over his lips in great bubbling waves. I somehow knew that his climax was filling me with blood instead of seed, and I looked down to see my crotch and thighs coated with scarlet.

"Hermione," he said again as his orgasm waned and his body suddenly lifted away from mine, slowly rising towards the ceiling. The curtains ripped as his body moved upwards away from the four-poster. He was coated head-to-toe in blood, and crimson rained down on me as I knelt on the bed, trying to grasp at his limbs, the terror in my chest beginning to take over.

"Severus!" I yelled and I threw myself upwards and wrapped my fingers around his limp ankle, but his skin was slick with blood and his leg slipped free. True terror rushed through me as the golden ceiling folded open and Severus floated upwards away from me, getting smaller and smaller against a blackened night sky.

"Severus!" I screamed, my body covered with Severus's blood. It saturated my hair, dripped into my face, coated my limbs and chest and vagina like scarlet grease. Red dripped from the curtains, the ceiling, the walls, pouring down onto the floor as I screamed, unable to stop Severus from leaving.

"Hermione!" Severus called out to me, his body shrinking and curling in on itself, until it was only a shining red spark in the sky, barely distinguishable amongst all the stars except for its colour.

"Severus! No!" I screamed again, sobbing now, my tears as red as Severus's vital fluid, and I shook violently against the bedclothes, burying my face in my hands.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

I awoke with a gasping breath to find Severus kneeling beside me, his hands gently shaking me by my shoulders, his face a deep scowl of concern.

"Severus!" I gasped, my hands instinctively reaching out and grabbing fistfuls of his robes and pulling him close to me. His body stiffened somewhat, but he allowed me to press my head into his chest.

"Hermione, you were dreaming," he said quietly.

"You can't leave, Severus! You can't die!" I sobbed, my mind still filled with blood and his body drifting into nothingness. Severus said nothing as I clung to him, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Let me get you a Calming Draught," he said, picking up my hands from his robes and placing them gently in front of me. His robes brushed my fingers as he spun and went to the potion cabinet.

Attempting to reclaim my thoughts from the horrors of the dream, I stared at the table and wiped my eyes. Snape was in front of me a few moments later, prodding me to sit up and then pushing a vial into my hands. I downed the potion without so much as a grimace, and felt the terror of the dream ebb away as it settled in my stomach.

"Thank you," I said quietly, handing the bottle back to him. I drew my knees to my chest, hugging them to my body, my head tucked between their peaks. The potion may have deadened my panic, but it did not remove the deep hopelessness that filled me, as if a Dementor stood over my back. The only thing that stopped me from checking over my shoulder to see if one was in the room was the warmth of the fire against my skin.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Severus, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, leaving distance between us. His words sounded concerned, but his eyes were blank and emotionless, and I found I couldn't look at them.

"Not really," I said honestly, staring at my feet. "But it doesn't matter."

"Should I go?" he asked.

"No, you don't need to go," I said, and I would have been shocked at how listless my voice sounded if it weren't for the fact I wasn't sure I could feel anything at all. "Summon some tea, if you like," I said flatly.

Severus shot me a furtive glance, but waved his wand and summoned our tea set. He filled the cups and then settled one in my hand before retaking his seat.

"I wanted to speak to you about last night, but it can wait until another time," he said smoothly.

"No, it's fine. Go ahead," I said, taking a sip of my tea. It was warm and delicious, but somehow it didn't make me feel any better. What did it matter when or if we spoke? What did it even matter what I said? It wouldn't change a thing. I rested my cheek on my knee so my face was angled towards the fire, and I watched the flames dancing in the grate.

"First, I would like to apologise," he began, his voice smooth and even. "Last night I was not in my right mind. I never should have let things go so far."

I sighed. I didn't regret it, would never regret having sex with Severus. A flame tickled the edge of one of the logs, slowly engulfing it in orange tendrils.

"It's fine," I said.

"It's not fine," said Severus.

"Yes, it is. You're forgiven," I reiterated with a shrug. _No point in holding a grudge when the man will be dead soon._

"I—I thought… you don't seem fine, Hermione," he said.

"Maybe I'm not. But like I said, it doesn't matter, does it? You love Lily and you're going to follow her to the grave no matter what I say or do. It doesn't matter that we had sex, or that I wanted it. It doesn't even matter that I love you, or how desperately I might want you to live. None of it matters. So it's fine."

"Hermione, I—"

"Forget it, Severus. I get it. Let's just get through these last four months," I said coldly.

There was a long pause, and then Severus said, "If that's what you'd like."

"What I like has nothing to do with it," I said bitterly.

The log was now fully immersed in an orange glow, burning brightly, but doing nothing to pierce the black fog that hung over me.

"Hermione…" Severus started, but I quickly stood up, not liking the ache that was rising into my chest like a curling snake, fighting against the Calming Draught, threatening to cut off my breath and to fill my eyes with tears.

"I'm going to bed," I said, not looking at Severus as I stumbled off the couch, sloshing tea on the coffee table as I set it down. I stopped at the door to the bedroom and chanced a glance back at the man for whom my heart was breaking. If only he could wrap me in his arms, could tell me everything was going to be okay, that he was going to live; but instead he looked at me with eyes filled with sorrow and shame, his tea cup in his hand, a frown etched into his curved lips. The snake struck, and my eyes filled with tears.

"See you tomorrow, Severus," I choked, quickly opening the door and stepping into the bedroom so he wouldn't see me cry.

"Goodnight, Hermione," I heard as I shut the door behind me.


	13. The Draw of Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to my beta reader AdelaideArcher. Mistakes are my own.

**Chapter 13: The Draw of Escape**

I rummaged through the dresser drawer filled with Severus's trinkets, finally lifting the torn photo of Lily from its depths. I stared at the woman who had captured Severus's heart so completely, and wondered what it was about her that made her unforgettable to so many men; to the man I now loved.

Her smile was beautiful, crinkling her eyes with joy. But it couldn't be as simple as not being beautiful enough. There was something I was missing. Something that made men intimidated and untrusting; something that made friends hard to come by; something that made me worse than dead.

There was no way I could ever make a man feel so much love and desire for me as Lily Evans. Ron, the one man who claimed to love me, didn't trust me worth a damn, got angry and jealous over nothing; what sort of love was that?

But maybe it was the best I could hope for. I'd never have Severus, that was sure. Not his brilliance, nor his affection, nor his heart. The most I could hope for was his sexual desire, and I didn't hate myself enough to be his whore. Not yet anyway.

_Pathetic, Hermione. You're pathetic._

I shoved the photo back in the drawer where it came from, hiding the beautiful smile of Severus's love, and looked up into the mirror. I was met with expressionless eyes, like dark sand at the bottom of the sea, unmoved by waves and touched by nothing but time.

With a deep sigh I turned away from my reflection and went and sat on my cot. It was the middle of the afternoon, not even yet a full day since Severus and I had talked, and I'd spent the morning alternating between sleep and staring at the ceiling, trying to block out Severus's voice from his office below. Logically, I knew I was depressed and already grieving for the man who would die in only a little over four months from now. But logic wasn't going to make me feel better, and it wasn't going to help keep Severus alive.

The way things were going, I honestly wasn't sure I could cope with seeing him again with the knowledge that he was still determined to die. I didn't think my broken heart could handle the stress. It was already crumbling, the feeling of hopelessness only building as I sat in his rooms amongst his things, his smell, his magic.

_So leave._

The thought had entered my mind before, this morning and yesterday, but I'd dismissed it because of the danger, because Dumbledore had said to stay hidden. But what did Dumbledore know, anyway? He was the one who sent me on this impossible mission in the first place.

I knew how to hide. I'd done it all last year with Harry and Ron. I still had my beaded bag and the tent, even. The only thing I needed was food, and I was sure I could scrounge that up somehow. I'd learned things on the run.

Feeling something other than hopelessness for the first time in days, I got to packing my things into the beaded bag.

While I was emptying my drawer, I tried to decide the best way to escape the castle. I'd have to at least make it out of Hogwarts in order to Apparate. I didn't have a broom, so I couldn't fly out the window, which only left sneaking through the castle in Harry's cloak. It was probably safest to do it at night, which unfortunately meant I'd need to see Severus one more time before I left.

It would be tricky, as I knew Snape was a light sleeper and set his wards before going to bed, but if I could get enough of a head start, I figured I could get away before he could follow me—if he even bothered to follow me, of course.

I decided, at the very least, I should leave him a note explaining that I'd gone, so I picked up a pen and a piece of parchment, scribbling out a message for him.  
 _  
Severus,_

_I'm sorry for bothering you these last months. I know now that I will never change your mind about your death—something I'm sure you wish I'd come to understand sooner. I am leaving tonight, and won't be back._

_Perhaps I should have listened to you when I arrived and left then, but I can't help but feel glad I got the chance to know you better. I hope, perhaps, there were some moments when you enjoyed my company too._

_To be clear, I'm not leaving because of what happened between us the other night. I will never regret that. I'm leaving only because I can't bear to watch you die again._

_Thank you for all that you've taught me, and for everything you've done and will do to protect me. I'll never forget you, and will think of you often when you're gone._

_My love always,_

_Hermione  
_  
I folded it and put it in my pocket, and would find a place to leave it for him later. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was almost dinner, and so shoved my beaded bag in the pocket of my robes next to the letter and headed out into the sitting room to eat and wait for Severus.

Luck was with me, as it would have it, for after dinner a house elf popped into the room holding a letter, saying Severus had been called away and did not expect to be back before midnight.

With a slight pang of guilt, I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to face him, and prayed that the Dark Lord would not choose tonight to torture Severus. At least I knew the cupboard was well-stocked with potions if he needed anything.

I waited until after the student curfew at nine o'clock before making a final check of the rooms for anything I might have forgotten, and put my note to Severus on his pillow.

Scanning the room where I'd spent the last four months, my eyes drifted to the crammed bookshelves. Making a split decision, I took Severus's copy of _Essentials of Healing_ from the shelf and shoved it into my beaded bag, thinking that one day I'd appreciate having something material to remember Severus by.

Finally I slipped on the Invisibility Cloak, and with a deep breath to set my courage, opened the door to Severus's offices and slipped down the stairs.

The corridors were quiet, and I met no one on my way out of the castle. It was slightly odd seeing the building in its undamaged state; the last time I had moved through Hogwarts, it had been blasted and burned to a fragment of its former glory. Now, though, it looked at it always had, strong and serene in the chill night air.

Despite the reason I was leaving, it felt good to get outside. My feet pounded strongly against the path down to the gates, only the occasional hoot of an owl and the sound of my feet crunching on the gravel disturbing the silence. As I passed by the winged boars, I concentrated hard on my destination, and Apparated away from Hogwarts with a soft crack.

Perhaps my chosen destination was an odd one, considering the circumstances. But I was curious, and I had nowhere in particular I needed to be, and so I arrived on the riverbanks of Cokeworth, the cloak still wrapped around me.

Severus had told me a little about his hometown—enough that I felt confident I could Apparate to it without ever travelling there before—but I wanted to see it for myself. It was the last piece of discovery I would allow myself before trying to begin the arduous process of moving on.

The place was dark, lit only by some bare steel lampposts nearby and the light of the moon, which gave a murky glow to the underbrush and the willow trees that lined the snake of slow-moving water. Beyond the river I could see a large mill tower and the roofs of rows and rows of identical houses.

Deciding to stay under the cloak for now, I scrambled up the riverbank towards the houses, thinking they were rather more like hovels than homes: most had boarded up windows, with the grout between the bricks barely holding them together, the roofs covered in moss and peeling slate tiles.

I walked for some time, thinking Severus really had described the place well when he'd told me no one would ever want to live here. It was a working slum, and it could not have made growing up in a poor and dysfunctional household any easier.

I also realised that amongst these rows of dilapidated boxes, Lily's smile would have shone even more brightly.

Shaking my head as the hopelessness threatened to overwhelm me once more, I decided it was time to leave, and set myself a new destination.

I Apparated into the dark shadow of a tor, a large rocky outcrop in the middle of the moorlands of Devon. I'd been here once before with my parents, and though I knew tors were popular amongst Muggle climbers, I thought that this one was more than likely remote enough and the season dreary enough that I shouldn't be bothered.

It was misting heavily, and I quickly set to placing protective charms and wards around my campsite before pitching the tent and getting out of the rain. I groaned a little to no longer have the comforts of Hogwarts, but at least here Severus did not sleep across from me.

Saying a little prayer that the Dark Lord was only speaking with Severus this evening, I curled up on the cot and shut my eyes.

_Just four more months. Four more months and Severus will be gone, Voldemort will be dead, and you can return to Hogwarts and move on._

I fell asleep with tears still slipping from beneath my eyelids.


	14. Mourning on the Moor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Loved all the reactions to the last chapter! I suppose I'm a little mean to end chapters with cliff hangers, but I can't help it. I may do it again... sorry (okay, not really)!
> 
> Thank you to my beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

**Chapter 14: Mourning on the Moor**

Being away from Severus's quarters, it turned out, did not stop me from thinking about him, nor did it make me feel any better. My first full day in Dartmoor I spent crying, wishing desperately for Severus to come bursting into my tent telling me he wanted to live; but of course that would never happen. Severus Snape would die, and a part of my heart would go with him.

Perhaps in time I would feel more like the solid spire of impenetrable granite towering on top of the hillside, but for now I felt like the steel grey clouds that covered Dartmoor's skies, their hope for a future slowly sliding away with every drop of rain crying upon the earth.

A gnawing hunger in my gut that I could not ignore woke me on my second day on the moors. Rolling out of bed feeling wretched but no longer in tears, I brewed a pot of tea. As I sat sipping the warm liquid, staring vacantly at the canvas wall, I was flooded with memories of countless evenings with Severus in his sitting rooms, and then of huddling over the kettle with Harry and Ron. It was enough to reduce me to crashing sobs once more.

_Be strong, Hermione. It will get easier; it must get easier. This can't be what breaks you…_

_Can it?_

Deciding I'd better do something productive before I went completely mad by Christmas, never mind making it to May, I donned the Invisibility Cloak once more and went scrounging outside for food. Finding nothing in the immediate vicinity of my tent, I trekked towards the forest in the valley below, ignoring the fact I was already soaked to the skin by the pounding rain.

Coming around the edge of the tor, I was hit with a wall of wind, which whipped and smacked the cloak around my legs and feet like a loose sail in a stormy sea. I stopped for a moment to ensure I was still covered, and noticed a herd of woolly ponies taking shelter against the trees a few hundred yards away, their bodies huddled together against the sideways rain.

A black pony stood slightly separate from the herd, grazing at first, but then raising its fine head, its large black eyes looking towards me as the wind blew its long mane and tail into tangled swirls. I felt a hitch in my breath, the equine's obsidian gaze reminding me of the man I'd left at Hogwarts.

_Oh, Merlin, Gods, and fuck… must everything remind me of him?_

Bowing my head against the weather, I stomped towards the shelter of the trees and the promise of distraction from my melancholy. The forest was made primarily of oak, the trees' curving, naked branches giving me little shelter against the rain. The strong wind made the branches creak as they held fast to their trunks, the sound punctuating the constantly whistling and pattering noise of the storm.

After traipsing through the forest for some time, I finally spotted a rabbit, its dark brown fur making it look like a lumpy brown rock next to the foot of an ancient-looking tree. The cloak meant I could sneak up to the animal largely undetected, as long as I stayed downwind.

Silently I raised my wand and whispered a "Stupefy." The rabbit slumped over, and I moved quickly so it wouldn't suffer, running forward and grabbing the rabbit by its hind legs. I made a slashing motion with my wand, whispering "Sectumsempra," causing blood to spill from its neck. Ignoring the twinge in my chest at using Severus's spell, I waited until the creature had bled out, then pulled it under my cloak and trotted back to camp.

Honestly, it amazed me sometimes how several months of living on the run with Harry and Ron had turned me into a fearless hunter. The first time I'd killed an animal—a squirrel—my hands had been shaking so badly I'd nearly dropped my wand and I'd nearly passed out at the blood; now the process was as easy as choosing a steak out of the case at the supermarket.

Back at camp, I skinned and gutted the rabbit with a flick of my wrist, and with another flick it was slowly turning on a spit, a bright little waterproof fire burning below.

For on-the-run meals, rabbit was actually one of my favourites (it was far tastier than squirrel or frog, though pigeon compared favourably), and I dug in to my dinner with gusto, ripping the meat from the bones with my teeth, praying I would find some solace in a full stomach. My hopes were sadly dashed when I recalled the rabbit stew I'd eaten only a week before in Severus's rooms. It had been rich and filling, and I'd consumed it with the knowledge that in only an hour more I'd be enjoying Severus's company by the fire.

Not that any of that mattered any more, for I'd never see my dear Severus alive again.

Cleaning up my dinner and putting out the fire, I returned to the tent to cry.

* * *

It took several days, but I slowly came to the realisation that I was drowning in my grief and I had nothing to pull me out of the water. Hunting and eating provided only momentary distractions before something inevitably sucked my thoughts beneath the current once more. I could not even focus on reading, each book bringing with it far too many memories that I only wished would go away.

The remedy, of course, was to spend most of my time sleeping, my tears long since run dry.

On Boxing Day I did wonder if I'd gone mad, if the conclusion of Severus's unalterable demise was the wooden block picked from the Jenga stack that finally sent my sanity tumbling to the floor after years of war picking away at the foundation. The funny thing was, I couldn't really bring myself to care either way. My sanity, or lack thereof, was nothing compared to my grief, which seemed to consume me like the rising tide.

The thirtieth of December dawned as dark and stormy as the days before it, and as I opened my eyes I was sure I'd never felt more alone in my life: Not when I'd first arrived at Hogwarts and had no friends; not in primary school when the girls in my class spent every recess calling me names; not in third year when both Ron and Harry wouldn't speak to me after I told Professor McGonagall about Harry's Firebolt; not even as I lay on the cold floor of Malfoy Manor being tortured unconscious and bloody by the wild-eyed Bellatrix Lestrange.

There were moments amidst my boundless grief that I wished for someone's company. That morning I wished for my parents. I ached for the warm, comforting hug of my mother as I curled in her lap on the worn but comfortable brown couch in our sitting room. I wanted the strong cup of tea and plate of chocolate biscuits my father would set in front of me as he stroked my hair and told me everything would be fine. It didn't matter if I knew he was lying—and in this case, he definitely would be—but his gentle voice and my mother's touch would make me feel better nonetheless.

At least, that's how it would have been before last summer, before I wiped their memories of ever comforting me from their minds.

At that thought another wave of grief crashed over me. The walls of the tent seemed to shrink inwards with each breath, and before long I could no longer stand being inside.

I didn't bother to put on a cloak before I pushed through the canvas door and out into the rain. It had been pouring since I arrived and the ground was soft, making squelching noises beneath my feet as I stepped forward until I felt openness around me.

I looked at the sky and felt the rain splash against my skin, cold and pure, its drops making rivulets of tears I could not cry. Not sure what I was doing but feeling compelled, I spread my body out on the earth, letting the mud and grass cradle my useless limbs and broken heart.

I thought, perhaps, that I might really be crying then as I stared up at the sea of iron clouds, my choked sobs sounding as if they were coming from far away as they met my ears.

_This is it, Hermione. Your mind is going. You're going to break here, right now. The earth is going to swallow you up and suffocate you, and then the rain is going to wash your corpse away. You're done for. Say goodbye, Hermione._

"Goodbye," I whispered, my bottom lip trembling as I released my mind to the abyss.

"That is no way to greet me, Hermione," said a smooth voice, floating towards me on the wind.

_Ah, this is it. Sweet, sweet madness. The place where Severus will always be alive._

His face appeared over me like a raven ghost, his cloak and hair fanning outwards like wings that protected me from the rain. I let myself get lost in his obsidian eyes, set so beautifully deep below his furrowed brows. I wished I could touch his face, but he was so far above me, and my arms seemed like lead rods by my side.

"Severus," I whispered with a soft smile.

"What exactly are you doing?" he asked, scowling at me.

"Going mad," I said matter-of-factly, and I started to giggle wildly at my own joke, though it wasn't really humourous: I really was going insane. I had to be, for Severus was here, and there was no way he could have found me.

"Get up," he said with a scowl.

"But I'm comfortable," I whined.

"You _are_ mad," he muttered, and then stuck out one of his long, elegant hands. "Take it," he ordered.

I looked at him quizzically, tilting my head sideways and feeling wet mud squish against my ear. "I could but I don't see how a hallucination is going to help me up," I said.

"Then let me assure you I am not a hallucination. Get up, Hermione," he said more sternly, thrusting his hand closer towards me.

"You are as bossy as the real Severus," I said, and with great effort I raised my right hand. I expected it to do nothing more than hang in the air, but then his fingers were suddenly around my wrist and I was pulled violently upwards. I stumbled forward, looking at Severus aghast and confused as I found my feet.

"But—but you…" I stammered. My mind suddenly went into overdrive, as if I'd fallen out of the sky and had only minutes to think of a way to save myself.

It couldn't really be Severus, could it? He looked awfully real, standing in front of me in his black wool travelling cloak, wet hair plastered to the sides of his face, a dark scowl upon his lips.

But if it was him, how did he find me? And what if I didn't want to be found? I was trying to get away from him! I wanted to escape! I wanted to grieve!

"H-how can you be here?" I said in a high-pitched screech, feeling suddenly terrified.

"My wards contain a Tracking Charm. I was delayed, but no longer," said Severus, his expression blank. "We're going back to Hogwarts."

"No!" I shouted. To Severus I probably looked crazy, my clothes and hair full of mud and my red, puffy eyes bulging out of my face.

"You're not safe here. Now unless you want me to stun you and tie you up for the next four months, you will come with me," he snapped.

"No! Please! I don't want to go back! I can't bear it!" I screamed, scrunching my hands into fists so my nails dug into my palms. "Leave me alone!"

"It's my duty to ensure you are safe, Hermione," he said, taking a step towards me. "We're leaving."

"Well it's my duty to ensure _you're_ safe and I failed! So you can too! Bugger off!" I shouted.

"I'm warning you, Hermione," he hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Warn away! I'M NOT LEAVING!" I turned and stomped towards the tent, intending to lock myself inside, but before I could reach the flaps the entire thing had disappeared in a blink.

I screamed and flew around, tears spilling out of my eyes in rage. "HOW DARE YOU! THAT WAS MINE!"

"I gave you fair warning, Hermione," he growled, tucking his wand back in his robes. "Now will you come with me, or must I bind and gag you?"

"FUCK OFF!"

I didn't have time for another word. Before I could comprehend what was happening, Severus had stepped forward, pulled me into a suffocating hold, and Apparated us both away from the stormy moor.


	15. Truth and Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for all the awesome reviews! For those wondering if you will get to see what Snape is thinking: except for his dialogue and actions, no, you won't. The whole fic is 100% first person from Hermione's perspective. So, you'll just have to figure things out along with her, I'm afraid.
> 
> And now for more angst (It won't last forever, I promise)!
> 
> Thanks to my beta, AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

**Chapter 15: Truth and Madness**

"LET ME GO!" I screamed as my feet hit solid ground. His arms released me and I flung myself backwards, nearly crashing into the sofa.

Wanting nothing more than to escape these rooms, I tried Apparating away, but felt my magic pushed back against me and hit me like a slap. I went nowhere.

In a full panic, I cried out in desperation and flew to the door, pulling frantically at the doorknob only to find it would not budge.

"Alohamora!" I yelled, waving my wand and yanking it harder, but the door remained locked and solid.

I was trapped. Oh Gods, I was trapped! He was going to make me live through his death!

_No, no, no, no, no!_

"LET ME OUT! LET ME GO!" I screamed at Severus, who remained standing in the middle of the room where he'd landed, surveying me with a dark look.

"I cannot allow you to leave, Hermione," he said smoothly, his eyes registering no emotion.

"NO! NO, I CAN'T STAY HERE!" I screamed, feeling like a bird locked in a cage, its wings beating helplessly at the bars. My fingers scraped against the door and I shook my head so hard my curls flew around me as if they were enchanted with a wild wind.

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before you came here in the first place and destroyed your Time Turner!" he snapped, baring his teeth in a dangerous frown.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHY MUST YOU TORTURE ME?" I shouted, still banging helplessly at the door, each punch of my fists weaker than the last.

"I am not torturing you!" Severus growled.

"PLEASE! PLEASE LET ME GO!" I wailed, slumping against the door and burying my face in my hands. My body shook violently as a deep terror at what I would have to witness rushed through me, and I felt sure I was going to explode if I didn't get away.

"PLEASE! I CAN'T WATCH YOU DIE AGAIN! PLEASE!" I cried. I heard Severus breathe out in a loud hiss and take a step towards me.

"Is that really why you left?" he asked.

"Of course it's why I left!" I choked out between sobs, my eyes scrunched tightly closed but not stopping the tears from streaming down my cheeks. "I've failed you, Severus! I can't save you! I can't watch you die again! Not now! I can't! I CAN'T!"

"You haven't failed me, Hermione," said Severus, his voice suddenly soft. I heard his feet shuffling towards me and chanced looking up. His robes billowed outwards as he knelt in front of me, his face etched with concern. I startled as his proximity and cowered against the door, too afraid of what I might see or do.

"Yes I have," I moaned, pressing my face against the dark wood and closing my eyes. "You're going to die, Severus."

"My death is not up to you, Hermione," he said, his voice like a slowly flowing river. "It's not a matter of failure."

"Then let me go," I begged in a whine. "Don't make me watch. Don't make me remember."

"I can't let you go, Hermione," he said. "I need to keep you safe."

"How can you say that when you want to die?" I cried.

"Because my death and your death are not the same," he said with a frown. "You must live."

"Hypocrite," I said lowly, and Severus sighed.

"Calling me names is not going to make things any easier for you," Severus said in a warning tone, standing once more and looming over me. I felt a small ripple of emotion in my veins, and tilted my head to face him. He was scowling at me, and to anyone else his eyes might have appeared as blank as a starless midnight sky, and yet I could see the anger there, and a touch of fear, hiding in their depths like some faraway planet.

I shifted on the floor, drawing myself up slightly.

"Don't you see?" I said, glaring at him. "Easy or hard, it doesn't matter. The ending is the same. That's all that matters, Severus. All that matters to me is what happens after that fucking snake bites you in the Shrieking Shack." The more I spoke the more emotion bubbled through my system, and suddenly I was angry, and desperate, and very much in love.

"Then you really are a stupid girl," Severus spat, his upper lip curling away from his teeth in a sneer.

I pulled myself upright, still shaking but determined now.

"At least I'm not willing to throw my life away over someone who never even loved me!" I shouted. Severus visibly bristled at the mention of Lily, and I half hoped he would try to attack me just so I could expel some of the emotions now pouring through me as if a dam had been breached.

"Aren't you? Isn't that exactly what you're doing?" he hissed in a low voice. He stepped forward, crushing me against the door with his body, his hands pinning my wrists beside my head. I didn't struggle, but glared back at him, refusing to back down. He leaned his face so close to mine I could feel his hot breath on my cheek as he growled, "And what happens when I hurt you again? When I push you away? Are you still going to love me then?"

"Always," I whispered.

"You're a liar," he growled, and I laughed at the absurdity of it all, of loving this man who would never accept it, who was so determined to die.

"You can't control other people's emotions, Severus," I said, squirming against him. "The only way you can stop me from loving you is to kill me."

"Don't push me, witch," he spat, his face twisted and deranged.

"Go fuck yourself," I whispered with a dangerous smile.

"I'd rather fuck you," he said, pushing his body against mine so I was well and truly unable to move.

"Now who's lying?" I said, more than willing to play his game. "We can't be together, remember? Or have you suddenly decided it's okay to betray your love?"

"I'm going to hurt you," he said, pressing the side of his face against mine. His breath was blowing hard against my ear, sending delightful tingles down my neck. My heart was pounding in my chest, a line of bright fire burning in me where our bodies touched.

"No you're not," I said quietly, not moving a muscle despite my urge to grind myself against him. "You're a good man, Severus. That's why I can't bear to watch you die."

Severus didn't answer me, but his hands tightened around my wrists, his nose pressing forcefully against my cheek.

"I love you, Severus," I whispered, and I nuzzled my nose and lips against his face as best I could, most of my movement restrained beneath the force of his body and hands. His jaw was prickly with stubble, and I scraped it against my flesh, desperate to feel him.

"No," he said, his quiet voice a moan of pain.

"Yes, Severus. I love you. I have loved you for months. The thought of losing you makes my world collapse," I said, and felt a pair of hot tears dribble down my cheek. I kissed his jaw, then pushed my head forward so my lips were next to his ear.

"I know how you feel, Severus. I know it exactly," I whispered. "The thought of failing you makes me want to die."

"No, Hermione," he begged, his voice muffled against my neck.

"Yes, Severus," I said, smiling through my tears. "So hurt me, or fuck me, or do whatever else you want to me. Because if you really want to die, I want to die too."

"Don't say that," whispered Severus, his mouth against my neck.

"It's true," I said, refusing to take it back.

"You shouldn't love me," he said desperately.

"It's too late for that," I said with a smile. I kissed the soft spot in front of his ear, allowing my lips to linger. "I'll love you until the day I die. Make it now, if you like. It doesn't matter in the end."

Severus's body shuddered against mine and he pressed himself against me further, so hard I could barely breathe. His hands pushed my wrists up until they were above my head, and my shoulders ached as they twisted in their sockets. Severus's lips brushed against my jugular, and I shivered involuntarily.

I wasn't sure if he was purposely trying to hurt me, but I didn't really care. The anger of earlier had faded to a blissful melancholy; love, despair, and desire tangled in my blood like the vines of a wild rose. An ache of wanting had been steadily building in my groin the longer I remained pinned beneath him, and now that the truth was out, I found I had nothing to lose.

"Let Lily go, Severus," I begged, wriggling beneath him in an effort to bring my lower body closer to his. "Please, take me. Please."

"I can't," he said, even as his mouth began trailing circles against my neck, his hot breath thick and laboured.

"Lily never loved you, Severus. I do. So take me. I'm yours, Severus," I said, closing my eyes. "I'll always be yours. Please."

His hips came forward against me and I could feel his erection through our clothes. I thrust my body forward as much as I could, my underwear soaked with desire beneath my robes, and attempted to rub myself against him.

"Severus," I moaned.

His lips captured my neck, biting and suckling in a way I was sure would leave a deep maroon mark.

"Yes, mark me. I'm yours. Claim me," I panted, grinding my hips upward. "Severus…"

"Mine," he whispered, before making another mark further down my neck.

"Yes, yes I'm yours," I moaned, delirious with my desire. "Please, Severus, I want you."

Severus brought his head up so he was staring at me and thrust me hard against the door, placing his thigh against my crotch and grinding it upwards so I cried out in pleasure.

"Fuck me, Severus, please," I whimpered, my body thrumming with need.

Severus moved to claim my mouth with his. His lips pressed into mine greedily, and I pushed back with equal need. Hungry to taste him, my tongue slipped into his mouth and he did not deny me, his own quickly greeting mine with a sloppy swirl that sent a pulse through my centre.

He moved my wrists so he could clutch them both with one hand, the other running down my side and grabbing at my breast, making me moan into his mouth.

He growled as he found my hard nipple underneath my robes while suckling my lower lip, but his roar quickly turn into a cry of pain, and he jumped backwards, releasing me as if he'd been electrocuted.

At first I thought he was pushing me away as he had before, but then I noticed him clutching his left arm, his face a mixture of fear and desire.

"Not now, Severus," I begged, shaking my head emphatically as my arms dropping to my sides.

"I'm sorry," Severus said with regret, and then he Disapparated in front of me with a loud crack.

"You goddamn snake-faced tyrant!" I screamed in frustration and pounded my fists against the door. A bang echoed through the room, but it did not bring Severus back to me.


	16. Dark Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my beta, AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are mine.

**Chapter 16: Dark Desires**

I waited around filled with a mixture of anxiety, confusion, anger, sadness, and sexual frustration, praying this would not be a night that the Dark Lord sent Severus home bruised and bloody—I did not need yet another emotion to mix with the rest.

After our entanglement at the door, I had no idea where we stood. I studied the two bright maroon marks on my neck in the bathroom mirror, fogged from my bath. I allowed my fingers to trace their blotchy edges, smiling slightly as I remembered him calling me his, filled with hope at what that might have meant.

The question was, did he still want to die? What would I do if he did? I'd let him fuck me senseless, that was sure; I wanted him too badly to deny him, even if it was not the love making I truly wished for.

Questions and emotions still roiling inside me, I finally gave up waiting for Severus sometime after midnight and crawled into my cot.

I was startled awake by the sound of Severus stumbling into the room, his feet heavy on the floor. I opened my eyes to see him clutching his stomach as if in pain, his other arm hanging loosely at his side.

"Severus, what's wrong?" I asked, jolting awake with a surge of adrenaline. I slipped quickly from my bed and went to his side. When he didn't answer, I touched his left shoulder and he moaned in pain, almost falling to the floor.

"Sit down on the bed before you collapse," I said, and he fell into a seated position on the mattress, hissing as his left arm was jolted limply against the edge.

"I need to take your robes off to get a better look," I said, already knowing that he was bleeding by the shiny wetness that covered them.

"Just fucking vanish them," growled Severus, his hair covering his face.

I raised my wand and concentrated on his torn and blood-stained robes. "Evanesco," I said, and they disappeared, leaving Severus naked except for his underwear. Another wave of my wand and the candles in the sconces on the wall burst to life so I could look at Severus's injuries properly.

"Merlin, what did he do to you?" I gasped, looking at Snape's battered body. His arm hung limply from its socket, a strange bulge on the front side of his shoulder, which was slowly turning a deep shade of purple. There were a dozen or so fresh slashes over his chest and belly, open and dripping blood. One across his stomach looked particularly bad, stretching from one side to the other and cut deeply into his flesh.

Severus's face was ashen white, his eyes moving in and out of focus. How he had managed to get back to his rooms, let alone Hogwarts, I had no idea.

I could feel the panic rising inside me, but I pushed it away, summoning several bottles of potions to my hands from the other room. I forced two Blood-Replenishing Potions and a Calming Draught to his lips, tipping them into his mouth. His body relaxed slightly as the Calming Draught took effect, and I set to work on healing the cuts.

I pointed my wand at the deep wound on his stomach, focusing hard as I sang Severus's beautiful spell just as he'd taught me. I felt my magic being pulled through my wand as the the blood that dripped from the wound slowed and then stopped. The second time I said it the wound began knitting itself together, and the third time sealed it into a thick pink, puckered line. I then repeated the process with the other dozen cuts.

"Dittany," said Severus quietly, and I followed his instructions, applying the salve to his tender skin before turning my attention to his shoulder.

"Can you move it at all?" I asked, to which Severus shook his head.

I gently touched the joint, making Severus hiss in pain. It looked wrong, somehow, a large lump appearing where it should have been smooth. "I think it's dislocated," I said. "I know the spell, but I've never done it before."

"Do it," said Severus, still sounding very weak. "You'll need to straighten my arm."

"Won't that hurt?"

"Do it!" Severus snapped.

I took Severus's wrist in my hand, grasping it tightly. Severus gritted his teeth as I pulled it gently to the side so his arm went flat. He groaned softly but did not move. Worried about how much pain he must he in, I quickly pointed my wand at the ball joint that was poking out under his flesh, focused on moving it back into its socket, and said the spell, "Junctura Uno." His arm pulled away from my hand as it fit back into the joint with a loud pop. Severus moaned and fell towards me, and I caught him in my arms, cradling him gently.

"Lie back," I said, helping him to lie on the bed. I pulled the covers over him and brushed the hair from his face.

"Thank you," he grunted, and there was a softness in his eyes I had not seen before.

"Take this," I said, pressing a bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion to his lips. "You need to rest." Severus swallowed it thankfully, his eyes closing as he fell into a deep sleep.

I sat by his side for some time, watching him sleep and wondering what he had done to deserve such a violent outburst from Voldemort, what would have happened if I had not been here to heal him.

_Of course the stubborn bastard would have tried to heal himself._

I thought about returning to my own bed, but found I could not leave his side. Sitting on the edge of his bed, I tucked the comforter around him more tightly, then sat and simply studied his face. The deep creases that normally carved between his eyes and beside his mouth were gone, his curving lips partly open, revealing a sliver of his crooked teeth beyond; it gave his visage a surprisingly soft look despite the overlarge nose in the middle of it. A stray piece of hair lay across his forehead and over one eye, and I gently tucked it behind his ear, then brushed my fingers down one sharp cheekbone, unable to restrain a small smile as I thought of what acerbic curse Snape might hurl my way for doing so if he was conscious.

Deciding I couldn't quite bear to be away from him during the night in case he needed something, and since he was too unconscious to complain, I quietly crawled into bed next to him, hoping he wouldn't be mad at me in the morning. If he was, I figured I could make a fairly sound argument considering had Voldemort not summoned him I would have ended up in his bed anyway—and doing far more intimate things than sleeping.

I curled up under the covers so I was facing him as he slept, and reached out and touched his pale cheek, which was surprisingly warm. After watching his chest rise and fall for several minutes, quiet confirmation that he was alive, I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of tiredness come over me. Within moments, I was asleep.

When I awoke the next morning, Severus was still sleeping, his black hair draped over the pillow like tangled string. I carefully extricated myself from the bed so I wouldn't wake him, and tiptoed into the sitting room, where a tray of breakfast had been left by the elves. I ate my breakfast in silence, one ear trained toward the bedroom in case Severus awoke, and thought about his injuries.

From the magnitude of scars that striped his lithe frame, it was obvious that Voldemort's torturous evenings were not a new event. How long had Severus been suffering in silence, unbeknownst to me, his other students, or the staff? Did Dumbledore know before he died what Severus endured at the hands of his other master?

I sighed, feeling my heart twinge for the man I was not sure would ever allow himself to be loved the way I wished to show him. Whatever mistakes he might have made, no one deserved the harsh life he was now living, and it hurt me to know that no one realised what he put himself through to help us.

I heard him stirring in the bedroom a little while later, and picked up the breakfast tray before making my way back into the room to check on my patient.

"Don't you dare get out of bed," I said as I saw Severus sitting up. He glared at me as I brought the tray to him and set it in his lap. Noticing his shoulders were unsupported, I summoned the pillow from my cot and placed it behind him so he could lean back comfortably, which he did but not without a growl of complaint.

"Eat," I said, sitting down at the end of the bed.

"Bloody nag," he hissed, but began to nibble on a piece of bacon.

"Are you going to tell me what happened last night?" I asked.

Severus scowled at me, apparently trying to decide if he should answer my question.

"Call it an early birthday present," he said cryptically.

"It's your birthday soon?" I asked.

"January 9. If you expect a party you will be sorely disappointed," he drawled.

I busied myself by casting some anti-inflammatory and bruise-reducing spells on Severus's shoulder while he finished his breakfast, then picked up his tray and took it over to the dresser, finally returning and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"So, what happened last night?" I asked as he settled back against his pillows once more.

"You told me that your friend Luna would be all right when I arranged for her to be taken to Malfoy Manor," he said.

"Yes," I replied.

"You, Potter, and Weasley escaped from her father's place yesterday."

"I remember," I said, recalling blowing up the man's house in order to get away. "But why did the Dark Lord attack you?"

"Losing Potter twice in five days has not put him in a good mood," Severus drawled. "I managed to convince him that Xenophilius is more use to him alive, and that we need Luna to remain unharmed to ensure his cooperation. Since he couldn't kill either of them, he needed someone to take out his frustrations on. I was the lucky choice."

"Oh, Severus, you stupid, brave, selfless man," I moaned, and Severus stiffened as I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug of gratitude and sadness. But then his uninjured arm came around me, and his chin dropped to rest lightly on my head. His fingers began to lightly stroke my back, and then he kissed the top of my head.

"What is this, Severus?" I mumbled into his shoulder. I wanted to stay pressed against him, but I needed to see his face, his eyes, so I raised myself up next to him once more.

His eyes were dark, and I could tell he was trying to keep his face passive, emotionless. But I could see the fear, the desire, deep within his eyes.

"You're wrong," he said quietly.

"About what?" I asked, shifting so I was sitting in a more comfortable position by his side. He didn't answer my question, dropping his gaze to his hands, which were resting in his lap.

"Severus, what am I wrong about?" I pressed.

"About my feelings for you," he said in barely a whisper.

_Wait… does that mean?_ My heart did a backflip in my chest.

"You have feelings for me?" I asked, not daring to believe it.

"Hermione, I—" he closed his eyes, unwilling or unable to answer me, but his right hand inched forward and his long fingers curved delicately around my own.

"Answer me, Severus, please," I whimpered. "Don't be cruel."

Severus opened his eyes, his expression full of anguish.

"I—I want you, Hermione," he said. If he had said this the night before, I would have believed he meant sexually; but now I wasn't so sure.

"What about Lily? About betraying her?" I asked.

"You were right," he said.

"About what, Severus?"

"She never loved me," he said, his voice cracking.

"Do you want me because I love you, or because you love me?"

"Hermione, I can't…"

"You can't what? You can't love me? Or you can't answer me? Or something else? Please just tell me the truth, Severus. I know you're scared, but if you care for me at all just spit it out, please," I begged. "You know how I feel. I'm not going to push you away."

"I meant what I said last night. I will hurt you," he said, his shoulders slumping forward, his head drooping low so his hair covered his face. "I have already," he choked.

"I am not some porcelain doll that cannot withstand a scratch, Severus," I said, and squeezed his hand. "Relationships aren't without arguments and hurt. The point is you love each other and you get through it together, and do better the next time."

"You should just let me die in peace," he muttered.

I sighed in frustration. "Is that really what you want? _Truly_? Or are you too afraid to try for anything else?"

"Why must you ask me so many difficult questions?" he snapped, peering up at me through his curtain of hair.

"Because we both need the answers," I answered. "And because I love you enough to ask."

"I don't understand how you can care for me," said Severus coldly. He looked frightened, unsure, far from his normal, powerful, confident self. His chest, still covered in pink healing cuts, rattled with each of his breaths.

"Why is it so hard to believe that I love you, desire you?"

Severus snorted. "I am ugly, bitter, broken, and old. I'm a Death Eater and a spy—do you know what that means? Do you know what I have to do, what I must allow to be done?"

"You are strong, intelligent, and kind—you may hide your heart from most people, but I see it. And you are brave, and I appreciate everything you've done and will do for Harry, for all of us. We're going to win this war because of you."

Severus shook his head. "You've been blinded."

"By what? My love for you? And how do you think I came to love you in the first place? I'm not some stupid girl with a crush," I said.

"I didn't mean that," Severus snapped, his lips curving into a deep frown. He pulled his hand out of mine and crossed his arms over his chest. "Explaining this is outside of my realm of skill," he said.

"Please, Severus, I don't believe anything is outside your realm of skill, not if you put your mind to it," I said, reaching up and cupping his face with my palm. His hand lifted from his chest, and I thought he was going to slap my wrist away, but instead he put his hand over mine, pressing it into his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed and I ran my thumb across his flesh, still prickly with stubble. His pain was evident in the deep curve of his brows, the way he clung to my hand like it might disappear at any moment, but he still hadn't told me what I needed to hear, so I pressed him once more.

"Tell me, Severus," I urged.

He opened his eyes, as bottomless and black as ever, and I waited patiently. He pressed his cheek further into my hand and kissed the base of my palm before looking at me with such intensity my breath was stolen from my lungs.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered.

I wanted to cry with joy, to kiss his mouth and pour every ounce of love I had into his lips, but instead I scooted my body forward on the bed so I was closer to him. There was still one more thing I needed to know.

"Then how can you want to leave me, Severus? How can you want to die?"

"I have spent most of my life working to end the Dark Lord—for Lily, for her son. Once it's over, I—what purpose will I serve? Everyone will hate me for what I've done—as they should. I deserve to be hated. I deserve to die for my actions," he said mournfully, and his face twisted as if he was fighting some terrible torment inside his head.

"You're wrong, Severus," I said sadly, and brought my other hand up so I was holding his face in my palms, forcing him to look me in the eyes. "You're so wrong. Have you not listened to me? You give Harry your memories when you die, Severus. You tell him the truth, and he admires you for it. No one is going to hate you once they understand what you did for us all. We all want you to live. Especially me. Please, Severus, please let me help you survive this war."

"Harry forgives me?" he asked quietly, and there was a spark of hope in his eyes.

"Of course he does," I said. "We both understand about Dumbledore. That wasn't your choice. None of what you've done has been your choice, not since you changed sides."

"But, Hermione…"

"Stop it, Severus! Forgive yourself. Everything you've done and will do, it's okay," I said, and then I leaned forward and kissed him, pressing my love into his lips.

I was about to pull away when Severus's fingers curved behind my head, pulling me closer and deepening our kiss. I opened my mouth and felt his tongue dart tentatively forwards, and I met it with my own, tasting a mixture of his breakfast, herbs and the coppery tang of blood.

When our lips did finally part, I breathed out and slumped forward. Severus brought his lips to my forehead, his hands still tangled in my hair.

"Please don't die, Severus," I said. If he didn't agree now, I had well and truly failed for good.

Severus let out a shaky breath. "Okay," was all he said.

"Okay? You mean you'll let me help you live?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, Hermione," he said.

"Oh, Severus!" I cried, and burst into tears, great wracking sobs spilling out of me with joy and relief.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked with concern, tilting my face up by my jaw.

"I'm happy, you idiot!" I said, smiling through my tears. I collapsed onto his chest and began wildly planting kisses across his skin until he hissed in pain as they met his injured shoulder.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I squeaked. "I'll stop."

"Kiss my lips if you insist on keeping yours busy," he drawled with a smirk.

"Gods, I love you," I said, and did just that.


	17. Slow Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all your support thus far. This chapter features a certain type of citrus fruit.
> 
> Love and thanks to my brilliant beta, AdelaideArcher.

**Chapter 17: Slow Burn**

A long, lazy kiss turned into a deep and passionate one, and then I was trailing kisses across his torso again, careful not to press against his injured shoulder.

Severus allowed his head to fall back against the pillows and his eyelids slid closed as I lovingly kissed along each of the dozen pink lines I'd healed the night before, peeling away the covers as I did so until he was exposed down to his long, elegant toes.

Placing a final kiss at the end of the mark that cut across his belly, I continued my gentle tour downward, tasting the salt and copper of his pale flesh. His erection pressed between my breasts as I circled his bellybutton with my lips, and then followed the dark trail of hair that marked a path down the centre of his flat stomach.

I lay infinite soft pecks along the line where his skin met his boxers and placed gentle kisses on each of his pointed hipbones, enjoying the way his belly rose and fell with increasing speed as his breath thickened above me.

His erection strained against the cotton fabric of his underwear, and I hooked my fingers through the waist, tugging downwards until his penis stood before me at attention as if waiting for a command.

"Hermione," he moaned softly as I brought my face to his erection, kissing the small, sensitive V at its tip. I placed soft pecks down his length, and then paused in my study of his body just long enough to divest us both of our clothing. His eyes followed me as I crawled over the top of him once more, nestling his erection between my thighs.

One graceful hand reached up, his fingers trailing gently over my jaw, and I waited, simply enjoying his touch.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," he said, his voice and expression unguarded. "I love you."

My heart felt like it expanded outward at his words, filling me with a sense of cloud-like joy and affection that I could not express except to smile down at him and continue on the path that had started with our kiss.

"I love you, Severus," I said, and carefully tilted my hips upwards and back again to capture the end of his penis and send it diving into my core.

The first time we'd had sex, it was wild and passionate. This time it was like falling into a good book, slow and studied, and I understood the true difference between fucking and making love.

Our eyes never wavered from each other's as I rocked deliberately back and forth over him, each movement building a blissful warmth in my lower body. His fingers traced the skin of my belly, my breasts, and my hips, my own palms resting on his chest for support.

Before long Severus was matching my movements, thrusting his hips gently upwards, and I could not stop the whimpered moans that escaped my mouth at the extra depth his movements pushed him inside me.

This was what I had wanted, what I had been dreaming of ever since the first time I'd studied the way his hands had caressed his tomes each evening. Now the book was my body, the spine my insides, the pages my flesh, and I gave in completely to his touch, allowing his hips and hands to guide my thrusts until I fell apart in his hold.

"Severus!" I moaned loudly as my orgasm crashed over me, though our movements did not pause even as I shuddered around him.

"Yes, my love, my goddess," Severus purred and I felt myself climax again and again at his urging, his hips pushing into me harder with each subsequent release until I was delirious with pleasure.

I felt sure I would disintegrate into a pile of burned pages when Severus moaned my name loudly and drove to his own release, his hands gripping my hips tightly as his seed spilled inside me.

As the trembles of his orgasm continued under me, I leaned forward, placing my lips at the base of his neck, kissing and sucking at his skin. "Mine," I whispered against his flesh, and I was happy to see the mottled blotch that claimed him as my own as I pulled away.

Feeling satisfied, I settled myself against his body, my breasts pressed against the bottom of his ribcage and my arms across his chest, content simply to look up at him.

Severus brushed my cheek in a soft caress with the backs of his fingers before settling them against my jaw, his thumb continuing to brush circles on my skin.

"Is this a dream?" he asked, his eyes deep pools of black water.

"If it is I hope I never wake up," I said, and leaned forward to kiss him once more, my lips gently sucking his bottom lip. Then I lowered my head onto his chest, curling my arms possessively around his torso.

"I can stay here today, but I'll need to return to work tomorrow," he said, pulling me closer and then twining his fingers in my curls.

"I know," I said with a sigh, not wanting to think about tomorrow just yet.

"I can't risk deviating from my normal schedule," he said, a hint of sadness in his deep voice.

"Relax, Severus. It's okay. Tomorrow we'll go back to our routine," I said. "But for today can we please forget about everything outside of these rooms?"

"For today," he agreed, and I closed my eyes, amazed at how relaxed and whole I felt nestled against him.

We lay there in silence for some time, me listening to Severus's heartbeat with my ear against his chest, Severus with his fingers gently running through my hair and down my back.

How was it that less than 12 hours ago I felt my mind slipping with uncontrolled grief and despair, and yet now I was filled with hope for a future with this man? Tomorrow I would tell Severus the terrible details of his demise at the hands of that cursed snake and we would begin planning, but for that day I pushed it all from my mind and concentrated on the warmth of Severus's body against my own, the sound of his heart beating steadily against my ear, knowing it beat for me, and mine for him.

For all I cared, the world began and ended at the four posters of Severus's bed.


	18. The Blood I Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A\N: And now, they begin planning for the future. As always, thanks to my beta, AdelaideArcher. Mistakes are my own.

**Chapter 18: The Blood I Remember**

As promised, the next day our routine returned to normal, except this time I awoke when Severus slid from beneath the covers. Quietly I watched him dress, wrapping his body in the stern countenance of his robes, his face falling into a blank stare that would protect him for the day to come.

"Be safe, my love," I called softly from the bed, still wrapped in a warm nest of quilts, wishing the world was different, that Voldemort was already gone and Severus would no longer be asked to hide his true self in order to protect those who did not even know what he did for them.

His scowl broke for a moment, his robes billowing outwards as he swept forward for a brief kiss.

"I'll be back for tea," he said, resting his forehead against mine for a moment and closing his eyes, taking a breath, and then rearing upwards into his dark persona once more and sweeping from the room.

I heard the door to his office click softly as it closed, felt his wards wash over the rooms, and I tried to ignore the melancholy that filled me, realising that these rooms and this castle were as much a prison for Severus as they were for me.

I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent from the sheets, feeling a powerful conviction run through me.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Severus," I swore to the air.

_Four more months. Four months to come up with a plan. Four months to save your life. Four months until we can escape and live however we choose: no Dark Lords, no fear, no bonds except to our hearts._

_I'm going to set you free, Severus Snape._

* * *

Severus stormed into the room after dinner, throwing himself on the couch in a heap, his black robes spilling around him. I was reading from my normal spot on the couch, and looked up as he brought his fingers to his temples, rubbing them in small hard circles, his eyes pinched closed.

"Do you need a headache potion?" I asked, setting my book down beside me. I knew he'd been in meetings with the Carrows for most of the day planning for when the students returned from Christmas holidays in just two days time.

Severus only grunted in reply, and so I summoned a potion from the cabinet and then knelt next to him on the couch with a soft smile.

"Here," I said, pushing the bottle under his chin. He dropped his hands from his forehead and blinked at me, and then I was pulled into his arms and pressed against his chest.

"Good to see you too," I mumbled against the wool fabric of his robes, wrapping my arms around him in return. His body was tense, a solid post beneath my embrace, and I gave him a squeeze.

"Only four more months and it will all be over," I said, trying to console him, and Severus muttered something unintelligible into my hair.

"You're very articulate this evening," I teased, and Severus huffed and pulled me closer, squeezing me so tight I thought the air would be squished entirely from my lungs. I chuckled softly, appreciative of his affection and how I could be a comfort for him. I lifted my head and kissed the underside of his chin—the only place I could reach—and his arms loosened, though he did not let me go.

I shifted into a more comfortable position in his lap, uncapping the potion bottle and pushing it to his lips. "Drink. It will make you feel better," I said.

"You're doing a fine job of that on your own," he said gruffly, ignoring the vial.

"I'm glad you feel that way, Severus," I said with a smile, "but you really should take this."

"Insufferable Gryffindors," he muttered, but took the bottle and swallowed it a single toss.

"Vile Slytherins," I said, shifting again so I could kiss him firmly on the mouth. His lips pressed back and he let out a long breath from his nose, the warm air spilling over my face. When I drew away, his visage looked more relaxed, his brows no longer stitched into a scowl and his lips soft and open.

"That's better," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ears.

"We have important things to talk about," he said smoothly.

"We do," I said. "But first we need tea."

Severus summoned the tea set onto the table in front of us and I moved with regret from his lap, pouring us both cups. I handed Severus his before settling down beside him once more.

Severus took a sip and his body relaxed further next to mine.

"Tell me how I die," said Severus, resting his cup on his thigh.

"The Dark Lord makes Nagini attack you," I said with a shudder.

"In detail, Hermione," he said. "I need to know everything that happens."

"All right," I said, taking a sip of my tea and then cradling the cup in my lap with both hands. "The first bit I only know from Harry. After we come to Hogwarts, the Carrows find him in Ravenclaw Tower—he said that you sent them there to guard it. They called Voldemort with the Dark Mark. He got away, of course, but you showed up outside, saying you were looking for him. And then Professor McGonagall and you duel, before you fly out the window. When did you learn to fly?"

"It was my reward for killing Dumbledore," said Severus smoothly, though I could tell Dumbledore's death troubled him very much from the look in his eyes. I reached out and squeezed his hand, and he looked a little startled before curling his fingers tightly around mine.

"What happens next?" he asked.

"I'm not sure what happened between then and when we found you in the Shrieking Shack. The Dark Lord called you there. I think you realised right away that something was wrong—or maybe it's because I told you—but I'd never seen you actually look scared before. You kept asking You-Know-Who to let you go look for Harry, but of course he was going to kill you because he thought he had to for the Elder Wand to work."

"I wondered about the wand. He's been researching it savagely. I'm afraid he has Ollivander," said Severus, and I nodded knowingly. "As for being afraid to die… Before I… But now, I—I can't imagine not being with you now," he said, his voice trailing into a whisper.

"Seduced you that quickly, have I?" I asked, raising my eyebrow in a coy question mark.

"Long before yesterday, I admit," Severus said with a sigh, not meeting my eyes. "Go on."

"The Dark Lord had Nagini in some sort of protective bubble. He floated it over to you and it enveloped you so you couldn't get away. And then Nagini bit you," I said, a vision of the great snake striking Severus filling my mind.

"Your neck, Severus. She bites your neck. There was so m-m-much b-blood," I stammered, feeling hot tears behind my eyes.

"Where?" Severus asked, sitting up taller and turning to face me. "Show me."

I turned towards Severus and reached out to brush the spot where Nagini's sharp fangs would pierce his flesh.

"H-here," I said, allowing my trembling hand to linger. His hand came over mine, and he brought it into his lap next to the other, which still held his cup of tea resting atop his thigh.

"I won't leave you on purpose, Hermione. I promised you and I intend to keep my promise," he said, dropping my hand and wiping a stray tear from my cheek. I nodded numbly, still remembering the amount of blood that spilled from the wound, the way his body had thrashed against the floor.

"How?" I whispered, suddenly unsure of how I might save him.

_So much blood._

"We'll get to that. Tell me the rest," he said smoothly, dropping his hand to cover mine once more.

I sniffed, forcing myself to concentrate, and told him the rest.

"We—Harry, Ron, and I—were under the Invisibility Cloak in the tunnel. The Dark Lord just left you there to die. You were convulsing, trying to stop the bleeding when Harry approached you, and I was behind him, and Ron behind me. You were lying on the floor, but you stirred when you saw Harry, grabbed his robes and pulled yourself up. Your memories, Severus. You give him your memories. You said, 'Take them… Take them,' but your voice was so weak. Your memories were just sort of flowing out from everywhere. I conjured a bottle so Harry could take them," I paused, allowing myself a few breaths before continuing.

"Before you went unconscious, you told Harry to look at you. Those were your last words: 'Look at me.' You and Harry stared at each other, and then you were just… gone…"

Severus squeezed my hand.

"How?" I asked again, looking at him desperately.

Severus took our teacups and rose from the couch, setting them on the table. Then he sat back down and drew me into his lap so my head was tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around me protectively.

"We'll need to deal with the blood loss, the venom, and also make it look like I die without killing me," he said, and I heard a slight tremor in his normally smooth tenor.

_Is he afraid? Afraid he won't be able to survive?_

"None is insurmountable on their own, but together and with the timing, it will be a challenge," he continued.

"But it's not impossible?" I asked, pushing my body closer to his.

"No, it's not impossible," he said. "The most difficult will be the blood, I think, since you won't be able to give me a Blood-Replenisher right away. I'll need a long-acting draught that I can take before."

"I've never heard of a long-acting Blood-Replenisher before," I said.

"That's because one doesn't exist," said Severus.

"Oh," I squeaked.

"Fortunately for us, we have a rather brilliant Master of Potions and his best student available," he said, and if the situation wasn't so dire I might have laughed.

"Is four months long enough to invent something like that?" I asked.

"It will have to be," he said. "I'll need you to do some research during the day, perhaps some experiments."

"Anything," I said, and I meant it. I'd flay myself open and lie there and bleed if it meant I could save him.

"We'll also need to brew Draught of Living Death and the Wiggenweld Potion," he said.

"I can do that," I said. I'd brewed them both in sixth year with Slughorn.

"The harder part will be ingesting them. The Draught of Living Death is fairly fast acting, and I'm not sure there's a way to slow it down. I won't be able to slip myself a potion with the Dark Lord or Potter in front of me," he said, and from his tone I could tell he was thinking.

"I'll do some research," I said. "There must be a way."

"Then I will bring you some books from the library," he said, and I couldn't help but feel a little excited at the prospect of new books.

"What about the venom?" I asked.

"I have an antivenin already," he said simply.

"You brewed it for Mr. Weasley?" I asked, thinking back to my fifth year.

"Yes," he said.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" My question was met with a shrug. "How can no one know about everything you've done?"

"No one could know; no one _can_ know, even now," he said, shifting himself beneath me. "I am a spy, Hermione. The less people know of what I do, the better."

"You don't deserve to be alone in this, Severus," I whispered, kissing his throat, and then beneath his jaw. "My brilliant spy."

Severus growled a deep rumble from his throat, and for a moment I thought he was angry, but then he rocked me backwards so I was lying across the sofa, his own body perched over mine on his sinewy arms. His hair and robes draped me in a tent of inky blackness, and I knew then it was a rumble of desire, of love, and I reached out to him, combing my fingers through his fine ebony hair.

"I am no longer alone, my goddess," he said softly, and then he lowered himself and stole my lips in a kiss, and his death was forgotten for the remainder of the night.


	19. Give and Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for the continued support of this fic. It means a lot to me and I read all your comments! 
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta AdelaideArcher.

**Chapter 19: Give and Take**

I sprawled naked on Severus's bed, feeling content. Severus had barely made it through the door that evening before we'd run to the bedroom, tearing at each other's clothes.

Smiling as I remembered one of his buttons skittering across the floor as I tore his shirt from his chest, I arched my back and stretched against the soft silk sheets like a cat enjoying a square of sunlight on the floor.

"If you keep stretching like that, we're never going to get to this tea," said Severus silkily. I peered to my right and grinned at Severus standing next to the bed with an amused-looking sneer, naked and holding the silver tea tray in his hands.

"That might not be so bad," I said with a coy grin, taking a moment to admire his lithe body, but instead of stretching again I sat up against the pillows so Severus could serve our tea. He placed the tea set on the dresser and poured us both cups of our evening drink, then took his place in bed next to me as he handed me a cup.

"How is your research going?" he asked, his legs stretched out in front of him as he sat against the headboard.

"Slowly," I said. "Honestly, I'm not finding much."

"It's only been a week," said Severus, taking a sip of his tea. I curled my toes and sighed, feeling impatient.

"I know. But we have a limited time. And we still have to test any ideas to make sure they'll work," I said.

"Patience, goddess," purred Severus. I levitated my tea cup back to the dresser and then stole Severus's free hand in mine, stroking and inspecting his elegant fingers.

"You have the most beautiful hands," I said thoughtfully.

I saw a moment of shock cross Severus's face at my compliment before it quickly settled back into passiveness.

"An appropriate response would be, 'thank you'," I said with a smile.

"I—thank you," he said, studying me as I brought the knuckle of his thumb to my lips.

"Beautiful… talented…" I mumbled, kissing each of his finger in turn and then turning his hand to kiss the base of his palm, "and delicious."

I watched a pale blush creep up his neck before he pulled his hand from mine.

"Careful, witch, or I may use them to make you scream," he growled, floating his own tea cup to the dresser and lowering it next to mine.

"Is that a promise?" I asked with a grin, crawling over top of him and stealing his hand again. I pulled it to my mouth and ran my tongue down his index finger, then sucked it into my mouth, releasing it with a loud pop.

"You are wicked," Severus hissed and pulled me into a snug embrace. I could feel his erection stirring against my thigh, but he said, "Can you keep that insatiable libido of yours in check for a few hours so we can discuss keeping me alive? You may use me as a lollipop as often as you wish after the Dark Lord is dead."

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling embarrassed that he had needed to remind me of the importance of our discussion. Forcing my mind to focus, I sat down next to him and pulled the covers up to our midsections.

"Do not apologise, my goddess," he said. "If the situation were different, believe me, I would never deny you."

"That's why I'm sorry—I should know better," I pouted.

"Come here," he said, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me to his side. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he placed his own atop mine, and I took another deep breath to settle myself.

"I've been looking at Everlasting Elixirs to see if any of them might combine suitably with Blood-Replenishing Potion, but so far I believe all we'd make is everlasting blood-coloured sludge," I said.

"I think we may be better off starting from scratch," said Severus, running his thumb across his Adam's apple as he often did when he was thinking.

"So I should look at ingredients then?"

"I'll give you a list to start with," he said, summoning a parchment and a quill. He scribbled down a dozen or so ingredients, then floated the list to the dresser, where it lay next to the tea set. "Look those up tomorrow, and we can discuss them in the evening."

"Yes, Professor," I quipped. Severus scowled down at me, reaching under my arm and pinching my nipple, making me shriek.

"I will not have you calling me that, witch," he said in a low growl.

"I thought we were keeping our libidos in check… Professor?" I said, feeling devious.

"Insufferable," Severus muttered.

"I think I'm quite sufferable, actually," I said, kissing his shoulder and then settling myself more comfortably by his side.

"So you are," Severus agreed ruefully.

"Any ideas where I might look for alternative potion delivery systems for the Living Death Potion?" I asked.

"That is something I don't think we will find in a library," said Severus, to which I frowned. "Don't look so abused, Hermione; the library is not the be-all and end-all of knowledge."

"I know," I said. "It's just my preferred starting place."

"A fact I have known since our very first meeting," said Severus dryly.

"There's a day I will never forget," I said with a chuckle.

"Indeed," Severus drawled.

"All right. I suppose I'll just have to think about it."

"What a novel idea."

"Shut it," I said, poking him in the ribs, to which he snorted.

"It is difficult to have a conversation with my mouth closed," he said smoothly.

"You know what I mean," I huffed.

"How can I if you don't articulate yourself properly?"

"You are the wicked one in this relationship, Severus Snape," I said, rolling over, and then I shut him up with my mouth.

* * *

A month went by with very little progress on either the long-acting Blood-Replenishing Potion or the Draught of Living Death delivery method, and I began to get increasingly anxious as the days went past with nothing to show for our work.

"I can't figure it out, Severus!" I moaned, burying my face in the chest of his woollen robes as we sat on the couch.

"I said it would be a challenge," said Severus smoothly, his fingers trailing through my curls.

"But I thought we'd have something by now," I said, clutching him to my body as if he would fade away at any moment.

"I am not panicking yet, Hermione. Nor should you," he said firmly, and I pushed away the urge to reply with 'yes, sir.'

"We are further along than we were a month ago," he continued in a smooth tenor. "We have discounted several options on both fronts, allowing us to refine our research. As with most inventions, success is often the culmination of many failures rather than the result of a single moment of inspiration."

I thought about his words for a moment, and smiled as I realized his wisdom. _Merlin, what a brilliant man._

"And you wonder why I love you so much," I said with a sigh.

"I do," he admitted.

"You shouldn't," I huffed.

"A young, intelligent witch in love with her wicked, ugly, challenging ex-professor," he said with a bitter laugh. "Tell me that doesn't strike you as perplexing."

"It sounds like a romance novel to me," I said, trying to joke but feeling pain at his words. "And if you haven't realised by now, I don't think you're ugly or wicked, I don't care that you used to be my professor, and I quite like that you're challenging."

"Perhaps one day I will believe you," he said flatly.

"You believe me here already," I said, pointing the left side of his chest, over his heart. "You just need to believe me here." I tapped his temple.

Severus hissed and plucked me from his lap, setting me down on the couch and rising in a billow of robes.

"Don't do that, Severus," I said. "I'm not criticising you."

"Don't you think I want to believe you? That I wish I deserved you?" he said angrily, his long strides silent but for a swooshing of his robes as he paced back and forth in front of me. "But I can't, Hermione; I don't. The things I do every day: I fucking well let the Carrows torture children, for Merlin's sake!"

I rose from the couch and stepped deliberately into his path, catching his biceps in my hands.

"Stop it, Severus," I said pleadingly. "Stop beating yourself up. It's okay."

"It's not okay!" he spat at me.

"It _is_ okay. Imagine how much worse it would be if you didn't do what you did every day," I said. "I understand how much you hate what you have to do, but that's what makes it okay. I know if you had a choice you would do none of it."

"I hate _myself_ , Hermione. My soul is damaged from the things I've done…"

"Oh, Severus," I said mournfully. "Please don't. You're wrong."

"In this case, I am right," he said solemnly, his eyes as vacant as he believed his heart to be.

"You're not," I said more forcefully. "Come back to the couch, Severus. Don't push me away again, please."

He looked utterly broken standing in front of me: his shoulders slumped forward as he leaned against my hands, his hands limp by his sides, his curved lips sunken in a sullen frown, and his eyes empty unfocused pools. It broke my heart to know how much he hated himself, how little he felt he deserved, but I was heartened by the fact he would now tell me what was roiling inside his abusive mind.

"Please, Severus," I said again, tightening my hold on him.

"All right," he said with a sigh.

I tugged his hand and he followed me back to the couch, sitting with a thud, and I placed myself back in his lap, straddling his legs so I was facing him directly.

"Look at me," I said, and he lifted his face, his brows arched in sorrowful curves. "I'm going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer honestly, okay? And please don't assume anything before I've had a chance to finish."

Severus nodded solemnly, and so I continued.

"Do you think I'm intelligent, Severus?"

"Yes, of course," he said.

"Do you trust me?" I asked.

"Y-Yes," he said, though he didn't seem entirely sure about his answer.

"Do you trust me, Severus? Be honest," I asked him again.

"Yes, Hermione, I trust you," he said.

"Then please believe me when I say you're a good man. You haven't deserved all the terrible things that have happened to you. You have a good heart. It's been taken advantage of, but that doesn't reflect badly on you, it reflects badly on those that hurt you and used you. Your heart is what makes you different from You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters—none of them can feel love like you do. You aren't one of them, Severus."

"But I—"

"No, Severus. No buts. I know I can't force you to believe me, but please consider that you might be wrong about yourself. Because I truly believe you aren't like them at all," I said with a tone of finality.

Severus dropped his head and I could tell he was struggling to process my words. His brows scrunched into knots and his nostrils flared with each heavy exhalation.

"Put your arms around me," I said softly. It was a request, not an order.

Tentatively Severus drew his hands from his sides and placed them loosely around my waist. In return I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a firm hug. His body remained tense, but he nuzzled his long nose into my hair and wrapped his arms tightly around my back, making fists in my robes.

"One more thing and then I'm going to be quiet: I decide who deserves my heart. And I've decided it's yours. Please don't push me away because you think you need to, or because you think you're doing me some sort of favour. Pushing me away is only going to hurt us both, and I know you don't want to hurt me—though I wish you'd care more about yourself too. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Severus said nothing but I felt him nod against my shoulder, and I tightened my grip around him in response and pressed my lips to his temple. It was enough.

We stayed like that for some time, and I wondered if he had ever been comforted before I came into his rooms. Had his mother hugged him when he scraped his knees? Had anyone consoled him when Lily died, told him it wasn't his fault? Had anyone tried to soothe his pain when he'd been forced to send Dumbledore to his grave? The way he was gripping at my robes like a lost child told me probably not; it made me more determined to show him my love and a better future beyond the war.

"I love you, Severus. Never forget that," I cooed, stroking his back.

"I love you, Hermione," he mumbled into my hair, apparently unwilling to let me go.

Then I felt him sigh against me, his warm breath blowing onto my neck, and his body relaxed into mine. It was another hour before he pulled away.


	20. Live or Let Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You know I love you guys when I'm uploading this chapter at 5:50am from the airport. Thanks for your continued support. And special thanks to my beta AdelaideArcher.

**Chapter 20: Live or Let Die**

_Add one scoop minced bloodwort._

I sprinkled a spoonful of finely chopped plant stems into the cauldron, the rust- and emerald-coloured bits slowly sinking into the thick purple liquid. Then I glanced down at Severus's instructions, which were scrawled onto a piece of parchment next to my bubbling cauldron.

_Stir five times clockwise then once anticlockwise. Repeat four times._

I carefully counted each turn of the rod, pleased when the potion turned a shade of camel brown on my last stroke.

_Add eight crushed mistletoe berries. Stir once each direction._

I added the berries and stirred, and the brew turned the desired shade of soft pink.

_Add four drops salamander blood._

As the last drop of ruby liquid plopped into the cauldron, there was a quiet hiss, and then the potion turned a sickly shade of green and began belching a thick grey smoke.

"Bloody fucking piece of shit arse cocksucker!" I hissed, slamming my stirring rod on the table with a bang. I grabbed my wand and vanished the contents of the cauldron for the fourth time that day, feeling enraged.

_It's okay_ , I thought, trying to calm myself down. _Just because it didn't work this time, doesn't mean it won't. Try again._

I was bawling into my smoking cauldron when Severus entered the room that evening. I didn't even turn to face him, my hands gripping the edge of the work table in an attempt to keep myself from sliding onto the floor in a puddle of despair.

Severus walked over and vanished the smoking solution in front of me, his dark form blurred by my tears, though I could feel his presence next to me. He waited several moments, most likely trying to decide what to do with the blubbering witch in front of him, while I continued to sob.

"Hermione," he said quietly, as if I might lash out at him at any second.

"I've tried it six times, Severus. Six times! It's not working! I can't…" Unable to finish my sentence, I burst into wracking sobs. I felt defeated, useless. We'd been working on the potion for over two months and I had been sure this would work.

I barely noticed when Severus peeled my hands from the table and took me into his arms.

"If it's not working, we adjust, Hermione," he said in a soothing tone.

"B-but w-we've tried everything, Severus!" I choked. "What else is there to adjust?"

"There is always something to adjust," he said smoothly. "Try again."

I rose up, feeling somewhat ashamed for my outburst, and scrubbed at my face before turning to the cauldron and taking a settling breath. Severus stood quietly by my side as I filled the cauldron with water and began chopping, slicing, and crushing ingredients.

I performed the first half of the potion without needing to read the instructions. My heart began to race as I got to adding the bloodwort, knowing failure was imminent. I forced myself to concentrate as I stirred: _One, two, three, four, five. Change directions. One. Change directions…_

I nervously picked up the crushed white berries from the bench and tossed them in, then stirred once.

My hand shook as I moved to pick up the bottle of salamander blood, and I nearly dropped it when Severus said, "Wait."

I looked sideways at him, my hand hovering over the bench with the vial.

"Don't put that in yet. Stir once more each way," he said, looking critically at the potion. It was the same soft pink it had always been.

However, not one to argue with Severus when it came to brewing potions, I placed the salamander blood down on the table and picked up the rod, stirring the potion once more in each direction. The colour change was barely perceptible, moving from a pale pink to a light rosé.

"Now add the blood," said Severus, his eyes not moving from the brew.

I picked up the bottle again, and shook four drops into the cauldron. This time, there was no hissing noise and it not change colour.

"It always went green and smoky before," I said in an awed whisper.

_Did it really just take two more stirs?_

"Stir eight times clockwise," said Severus, pushing me to continue.

I nodded dumbly and picked up the rod once more, moving it in fluid circles through the thick liquid as it darkened from pink to a deep burgundy.

"Now we wait," said Severus, flicking off the burner with his wand.

"Do you think it worked?" I asked.

"We will see in four hours," he said. "Can I count on you to stop yourself from breaking down in tears until then?"

"Yes," I squeaked, my cheeks flushing the same pink as the brew before the two extra stirs.

Severus nodded and went to the couch, pulling off his outer robe and throwing it over the back before taking a seat. He rubbed at his temples with his long fingers, as if massaging out negative thoughts.

I took a seat beside him, curling my legs beneath me, and lay my head on his shoulder. He lifted his hands so they floated in the air next to his head and looked at me from beneath his thick brows.

"I'm sorry for crying," I said quietly. "I was frustrated. I've been trying to fix it all day."

"If I had more time—"

"But you don't," I interrupted him, knowing what he was about to say. "It's okay. I just wish we were progressing faster, that's all. Less than two months to go…"

"The potion appears stable," he said, dropping his hands and glancing over his shoulder to the silent brew in the corner. "If it remains so as it matures, we may not have a need for further progress."

"Except we still don't have a way to get you the Draught of Living Death without You-Know-Who or Harry noticing," I said with a frown.

"Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be unfalteringly optimistic?" asked Severus, sounding slightly amused though he continued to glower at me.

"The Sorting Hat nearly put me in Ravenclaw, you know," I said in weak defence.

"But it didn't," he said. "So please return to your sunny disposition. You sound as miserable as I do after being forced to teach dunderheads all day."

"The only dunderhead here is me, I'm afraid," I said.

"You, Hermione Granger, are not a dunderhead," said Severus smoothly. "An irritating know-it-all, to be sure, but not a dunderhead."

"I suppose it could be worse," I said with a long, mocking sigh and snuggled closer to his side, "I could have been put in Slytherin."

* * *

Four hours later, Severus and I stood on either side of the potions bench peering into the silver cauldron, where the thick potion had matured into a deep crimson, its surface smooth and free from blemishes, bubbles, or smoke.

"It looks stable," I said hopefully.

Severus summoned a ladle wordlessly to his outstretched fingers, then dipped the scoop into the liquid. He brought it to his nose, sniffing the contents with flared nostrils as if it told him everything he needed to know.

"Vial," he said, apparently satisfied, and I conjured one and placed it into his hand.

"How do we know if it will work?" I asked as I continued to conjure vials so none of the potion would be wasted—I didn't know how much we'd need.

"It will work," said Severus.

"Are you sure? I can bleed into a bucket all day tomorrow if it will help," I offered gamely.

"You will do no such thing!" Severus roared, snatching the vial I had conjured from my hand protectively.

"Okay, I won't! It was a joke," I said. That was a lie: I'd bleed out for a week if it helped. But on the matter of potions, I decided to trust Severus once more.

Severus was glaring at me contemptuously.

"I _won't_ , Severus. I promise," I said, conjuring another vial and placing it on the table.

He schooled his features and began filling each of the vials while I moved on to conjuring labels, which wrapped themselves automatically around the little crystal tubes of red liquid.

I looked at him curiously as he paused before capping the last bottle, then gave a small shrug of his shoulders and downed the contents in a swift motion.

"It tastes horrible," he said.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"To ensure no ill effects," he said.

"But you said it would work!"

"And it will," he said. "But we have very little knowledge of what all the extra blood will do to me in the meantime."

"I should have tested it!"

"Nonsense," said Severus, as if he meant to end the conversation. I huffed angrily, but my irritation quickly slipped into worry.

"Do you feel okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine, Hermione. At worst I will need to add a liver tonic," he said, waving at me dismissively as he began to clean up the workstation.

"Should have been me," I muttered under my breath. "Stubborn git."

"What was that?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing!" I said with artificial cheer.

This time it was Severus who blew out an annoyed breath, but then his scowl turned into a small grin.

"Hermione, we now have a solution to the blood loss."

"Oh my God!" I shrieked, suddenly realizing what the success of this potion meant. I flew around the table and launched myself into his arms, bursting into tears once more.

"I thought you weren't going to cry anymore tonight?" he asked, his voice a mixture of mirth and irritation.

"Happy tears," I said through a smile. "And I only promised not to cry until the potion was done."

Severus wrapped his arms around me and we held each other close for several minutes.

"It seems I might make it through this after all," he said, as if he hadn't dared to believe it before now.

"Don't even say that. Of course you're going to live!" I yelped, rearing backwards to look at him. "If you're at all unsure I will get out the damn bucket and bleed myself right now."

"Don't you dare," Severus growled.

"Then don't you dare give up on me," I said fiercely. "You're going to live."

Severus took my hand and led me to the bedroom. I followed him curiously, not sure if he meant for us to sleep or make love.

Both of us pulled off our clothes and then slipped under the covers. Severus wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. I could feel his long nose pressed against the top of my head as he breathed deeply, and I felt myself sinking into relaxation.

Apparently the stern man just wanted a cuddle. _Endless surprises… and a life to learn the rest of them_ , I thought with a smile before allowing myself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Two weeks later, I lay on the couch turning over options for the Draught of Living Death in my mind for likely the thousandth time. Whatever we used, it needed to be discreet, it needed to allow the potion to be taken orally, and it needed to work 100 per cent of the time.

Which left us with pretty much nothing.

Vials wouldn't work. Injections wouldn't work. Somehow spelling the potion into his mouth wouldn't work. Taking the potion early wouldn't work. Altering the potion wouldn't work.

I sighed, staring up at Hufflepuff's badger on the ceiling, and found myself wondering about my parents.

As far as I knew, they survived the war and were still hidden in Australia as I lay on the couch in Severus's rooms. I wondered how similar they were to the parents I remembered: if my mother still enjoyed baking chocolate chip biscuits on the weekends and humming to herself as she washed the dishes; if my father still drank a cup of tea standing in front of the back window every day after work and forced my mother to watch James Bond movies.

I smiled thinking of Severus playing James Bond, the consummate, handsome, charismatic spy. Consummate he was. Handsome, at least in my mind, he was. But while he was clever and articulate, calling him charismatic was a stretch. It was a delicious image, however, to think of him wearing one of Bond's dark suits and sitting at a bar drinking a Vesper.

I imagined his pockets full of spy gadgets, his boots fitted with retractable daggers, trading his wand for a Walther PPK 7.65 millimetre handgun. I wondered if like Bond he would toss his agency-issued cyanide pill away.

_Cyanide pill._

I blinked.

_Cyanide pill._

The words stuttered through my mind like a skipping record.

_Cyanide pill._

_Could it work?_

_Cyanide pill._

_Would enough potion fit in a capsule that Severus could hold it in his mouth and crush it at the opportune moment?_

_Cyanide pill._

_Draught of Living Death pill._

* * *

"Severus, I have an idea!" I squealed in excitement the instant I heard the door to his chambers open that evening.

"Can it wait until I've sat down?"

I bounced on my heels, chewing my lip. "Fine, fine, sit down. But hurry!"

Severus raised an eyebrow, crossing the room with long strides and placing himself elegantly on the couch.

"No time for tea," I said, perching myself on the edge of the cushion next to him. "Do you know who James Bond is?"

That was clearly not the question Severus was expecting, as he blinked once and cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yes," he replied after several seconds.

"Have you seen any of the movies?" I asked, vibrating in anticipation, wanting desperately to know if he thought my idea would work.

"I have not."

"Okay, well, my dad loves James Bond. He used to force my mum and I to watch one of the movies at least once a month. He used to call my mum Moneypenny, actually," I said, getting lost in memories.

"The point, Hermione," drawled Severus with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh! Right, well, for example in _Licence to Kill_ Bond gets taken by these Hong Kong agents. But then the real bad guy attacks them all. So one of the Hong Kong agents uses a cyanide pill to kill himself so he can't get taken!"

"I thought I told you to get to the point," said Severus tersely.

"Cyanide is a deadly poison, Severus. They put it in a glass capsule, and the spy or agent or whoever keeps it under their tongue so that if they are at risk of getting captured, all they have to do is bite it and it kills them."

I was so excited my words were flowing out of me like speeding cars on a freeway.

"So, we make a capsule—I'm sure I can transfigure one—and then when it's time for you to die in the Shrieking Shack, you bite it, and then you die just like in the movie! Except instead of containing cyanide we use Draught of Living Death. You said the draught is fast acting, right? How much would you need to take for it to be effective? Do you think it will work?"

"If only your brain ran as fast as your mouth," said Severus smoothly, and I smacked him playfully in the gut, to which he gave a small grimace.

"What do you think of my idea, Severus?" I asked again. Severus brought his thumb to his Adam's apple, stroking it back and forth in thought as his face became serious.

_Please say it'll work._

_Say it'll work._

_Come on. Come on. Come on!_

"Stop bouncing, Hermione," he snapped, and I forced myself to sit still.

Several agonisingly long minutes passed before he finally said, "I think you may have discovered a solution."

I squealed in glee and jumped into Severus's lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"You're very excitable, did you know that?" asked Severus with an amused smirk, his hands come up to rest on my biceps.

I gave him a toothy grin. "It's not every day I get to figure out a way to save you, Severus. You should be more excited."

"We still have to test it," said Severus.

"Okay, let's get started then! I have both potions, and I can transfigure the capsule from the vial. If I put the draught in the vial and then transfigure it, it should hold the potion like we want. What amount should I put in? Did you want to test it out or should I? Maybe I should be the first one, in case something goes wrong? You'll be better at antidotes than me."

Severus rubbed between his eyes with his long fingers, and I suddenly realized he looked very tired.

"Just sit, Severus. Have a cup of tea. I'll get everything ready," I said, and launched myself from the couch to the potions cabinet. I took a vial of the draught I'd brewed a month previously, along with the antidote, and brought them both back to the couch.

"Do we need to use all of this?" I asked, bringing the bottle of Living Death in front of Severus as he sat drinking his tea.

"Half should suffice for our purposes," he said.

I conjured another vial and then carefully split the potion between it and the original. I'd already figured out earlier how to transfigure a capsule out of the vial, and concentrated hard so that the potion would stay untouched and in the centre while the vial shifted around it into a cylinder.

"How's this look?" I asked, holding up the first capsule.

"Adequate," he said.

I smiled and looked at it for a moment, then popped it into my mouth, sliding it between my teeth and my tongue.

"It feels odd, but it appears it's small enough that I can talk," I said with relief. Severus was staring at me, no longer paying attention to the tea in his hands.

"Well, here goes nothing," I said with a smile.

"Hermione!" said Severus, but I had already flicked the pill between my teeth with my tongue, and bitten down with a muffled crunch.

In a few moments I felt an immense tiredness wash over me and my vision began to blur and fade to blackness.

I awoke lying on the couch, Severus perched over me, my lips tingling as though he'd just kissed me, though not remembering him doing it.

"It worked?" I asked groggily, blinking several times as I felt the tiredness slowly ebb from my limbs and my mind.

"I appears that way," said Severus, his inky black eyes searching my face.

"I feel fine. Though my mouth feels gritty and—Ow!" I shrieked, feeling something stabbing my tongue and tasting blood.

"Your mouth is full of glass," said Severus with a frown. "Open up."

I obligingly opened my mouth as if a doctor was checking my throat.

"Do not, under any circumstances, close your mouth until I say to do so," said Severus, drawing his wand. "Accio glass shards!"

I felt pieces fly out of my mouth and up my throat, some of them slicing my tongue and cheeks along the way. I scrunched my eyes up in an effort not to close my mouth, and within seconds Severus had gathered all the shards into his outstretched hand.

He tossed them onto the floor, and then began to sing his beautiful healing spell, and I felt the pain recede from my throat and mouth.

He turned towards me with an angry scowl, and I bit my tongue to stop myself from speaking.

"If you'd bothered to wait before charging forward like a bloody Gryffindor, I was going to tell you we need to add a Vanishing Charm," he said icily.

"I—I'm sorry," I squeaked.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut, leaning backwards and rubbing at his temples.

"As long as you are all right," he said, letting his hand fall forward in front of his face.

I pushed myself upright. "I'm fine, Severus," I said.

Ignoring Severus for a moment, I reached for the other vial of Living Death and transfigured it into a capsule. This time, I added a Vanishing Charm that would activate once it was crushed.

"I fixed it," I said. "Would you like to try now?"

Severus peered up at me from beneath his furrowed brows. He looked tired and worried, not at all how I thought he should feel. Based on my test alone, it was clear to me this was the solution we had been searching for.

I smiled at him and placed the pill in front of him in the palm of an outstretched hand, and he took it with shaking fingers. Sitting back on the couch, he slipped it into his mouth, and I barely heard the soft crunch as he bit it with his teeth.

It was going to work, I could feel it, and my heart started thrumming as his eyes slipped closed and his breathing stopped. It was easy enough to wake him with the antidote.

"It worked," he said with a nervous smile upon awakening.

"It worked," I confirmed with a huge grin. I pulled myself into his lap and gave him a kiss. "We did it, Severus. We did it!"

"You did it, goddess," he rumbled, reaching up and brushing the hair from my shoulders.

"Smile, Severus! There's nothing else to worry about except timing," I said brightly, and Severus gave me a toothy grin. I could tell he was exhausted, and wondered what he'd done today.

"All I am worried about right now is sleep," he said wearily. "As should you."

"I'm too excited to sleep," I chirped. "But I'll come to bed with you."

"Will you be able to contain your enthusiasm in the bedroom?"

I pursed my lips, blowing out a breath from my nose. "I'll be good," I confirmed.

Severus chuckled, something he did far too little. "You better be," he said silkily, lifting me from his lap, and then striding into the bedroom.

Undressed, we crawled into bed together. Too excited to sleep, I lay with my head on his shoulder, one hand making lazy circles over his skin. I let my fingers trail downwards and brush over his penis, which stirred at my touch.

"I thought you said you'd contain yourself?" he asked, though he didn't sound too upset about it.

"I changed my mind," I said with a sly grin, and enveloped his half-hard cock in my hand. It didn't take much before it was firm in my grasp, and Severus sucked in breath as I gave it a few firm strokes.

"A discovery of this magnitude deserves a celebration, don't you think?" I said, and rolled over on top of him, slipping his penis slowly inside me until we were pressed pelvis to pelvis.

Severus chuckled again. "You are going to be the death of me, goddess."

"No, Severus, I'm going to be the life of you," I said, and began rocking my hips.


	21. A House by the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There is some dialogue nearer the end of this chapter taken directly from DH; obviously, anything you recognize belongs to JKR.
> 
> Thank you as always to my lovely beta, AdelaideArcher.

**Chapter 21: A House by the Sea**

The night we guaranteed Severus's survival, I awoke to him shaking next to me, his head buried into my mass of curls on the pillow above my head. The room was still dark with night, and I stirred warily, not sure what was wrong. His breathing was shaky, and then I heard him sniff.

_Wait, is he… is he crying?_

It seemed impossible, but then I heard a soft sob above me.

"Severus, what's wrong?" I asked.

He didn't answer me, but gripped me tighter, and so I hugged him in return, hoping he would talk to me.

"I'm going to live," he whispered hoarsely, as if the truth of his survival was finally hitting him.

"Yes," I said, peering up from between his arms. I could see several damp tracks on his pale cheeks, wetness stuck between his thick black lashes. He looked down at me, shame apparent on his face, which was twisted between joy and despair.

"It's okay, Severus," I said, scooting myself up so we were face-to-face and wiping away his tears with my thumbs. "You can cry in front of me."

"I—I never thought I would… I always thought it couldn't possibly be… that I didn't… I couldn't…" his voice trailed off, and it was one of the few times I'd heard him sound uncertain of his words.

"You deserve this, Severus," I said, somehow knowing what he meant. He shut his eyes and nodded, a few more tears leaking out from under his long lashes. I kissed his cheeks, salty and damp beneath my lips, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"What happens after?" he asked, opening his eyes.

"After what? I asked.

"After the Dark Lord falls. What then?"

"Whatever you want happens," I said.

"Whatever I want," Severus repeated, as if the idea was completely foreign to him.

"Do you know what you'd like to do, Severus?" I asked curiously.

He shook his head, several strands of thin hair falling into his face, and I tucked them behind his ear.

"All I know is I want you," he said.

"That's a start," I said with a smile. "We could do anything. We could travel, or work, or get married and have babies."

Severus physically balked at the word 'babies.'

"You want to get married and have babies?" he asked incredulously, and I chuckled at how scared he looked.

"Well, not right away, no," I said, and he seemed to relax a bit. "But eventually I can see myself having a family with you."

"With me?"

"Yes, of course, with you. Who else would it be?"

"Someone else," he said. "Someone who would be a better husband, a better father."

"I wish you would stop thinking so little of yourself," I said with a sigh. "Look, we don't need to decide our whole future now. We have lots of time to figure it out. We can even change our minds."

Severus curled himself around me again, and I smiled. Part of me had expected him to push me away, but he pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair once more.

"I'll do anything as long as you're with me," he whispered, and I felt a pang in my chest at how fearful he sounded, as if I might disappear at any moment.

"I'll be with you," I said. "But I'm not making all of the decisions on my own, either. It's _our_ future, Severus, not just mine. You have a say. You have a choice."

A shiver went through Severus's body, and I pulled the covers around us more snugly.

"We're going to be all right," I said. "Six weeks now."

"Six weeks," Severus mumbled. His chest was rising and falling now in a deep, even rhythm. I thought he would fall asleep, but instead he stirred again.

"Hermione," he said.

"Yes?"

"When this is over, will you still live with me?"

"I'd like that," I said. "Do you have another home? A house?"

"I do, but it was my father's house," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Your father?"

"Was an abusive drunk," he said bitterly. I'd figured as much from the hints in previous conversations, but frowned at his proclamation. "There are no happy memories in that house."

"The house in Cokeworth, you mean? I didn't realise you still owned it," I said.

"What was the point in buying something better? I was going to die before the war ended," he said. "It was also where I met her."

I didn't need to ask who 'her' referred to.

"What kind of house do you want, Severus?" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation to something more positive. I hoped if he answered he might begin to realise he could have something more. I wanted him to dream, to see a future better than his past.

"Something with a large study," he said contemplatively.

"Yes, we'll have lots of books," I agreed. "What colour will it be?"

"Mahogany wood shelving," he said. "White walls."

"Not green?" I asked, and Severus shook his head.

"Bright white, with large windows that let in the sun in the morning."

"It sounds lovely," I said, the picture of our study blooming in my mind. "It will have a couch and two armchairs. Comfortable ones you can spend hours in."

"The chairs will be green," said Severus matter-of-factly.

"Then the ones in the living room will be red," I said with a grin.

"The living room?"

"You don't expect us to live permanently in a study, do you?"

"I suppose not. A living room then, and a kitchen."

"Three bedrooms."

"Two bathrooms."

"A garden for herbs and vegetables."

"A swing."

"A _swing_?" I asked curiously, thinking that very much sounded like something one would have for children.

"Yes, a swing in the garden," he said smoothly, not quite meeting my eyes.

"I see," I said, grinning into his chest. "What else?"

"I don't believe we've added a dining room yet," he said.

"Separate from the kitchen?" I asked.

"Yes, though the kitchen could have a smaller table," he said. "And of course I'd need somewhere to brew potions."

"Of course," I said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "And where is this future house of ours?"

"Cornwall, perhaps, or Devon? Somewhere near the sea," he answered.

"So nowhere near Hogwarts," I said with a chuckle. "Though I like the idea of living near the sea. Shell Cottage—that's where Bill and Fleur live—is lovely; it's right on the ocean, so there's always a breeze and fresh air."

"I'd prefer not to live near any Weasleys," he said sourly.

"Fair enough," I said. "Though you can't get away from visiting them altogether. They are my friends, and will be yours again too once everything is explained."

"Do you think so?" asked Severus.

"Yes, Severus. Trust me on this."

"What about your parents?"

"Do I think they'll like you, you mean?" I asked, and Severus hummed in affirmation above me. "Yes, of course they'll like you. If we tell my dad you're a ex-spy, he'll think he's won the son-in-law lottery."

At this Severus snorted, and I smiled, pleased that he hadn't balked at the possibility of him being a 'son-in-law' in the future. It was odd, of course, thinking of marriage when we'd only really been together for less than three months, but something about it felt right. It wasn't as if I was really going to run out and marry him the moment Voldemort died, but the thought of it happening one day felt good. If his dreams of a swing in the garden were anything to go by, it seemed his feelings were similar.

* * *

Distracted by our success and our dreams of our house by the sea, I forgot that the capture of Harry, Ron, and the other-me was imminent.

To be honest, I hadn't thought about my torture by Bellatrix much. I was surprised, actually, that I never had nightmares beyond the first few nights at Shell Cottage; but then there was still a war to win, Horcruxes to destroy. Severus was ample distraction after the Dark Lord fell, and reminiscing on my torture had seemed counterproductive to my goal.

However, it all came rushing back on a Sunday near the end of March. Severus and I were asleep when Severus awoke with a startled howl that jolted me awake. Even in the darkness I could see the whites of his eyes as he looked at me with a wide-eyed stare that spoke only of fear.

"The Dark Lord is coming," he said in a hoarse whisper, as if not willing to believe it, and I watched his Occlumency shields drop like a thick iron portcullis, his eyes going dull as his emotions were locked behind them.

"Coming? As in _here_? To Hogwarts?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes," said Severus. He looked at me, his blank expression contrary to his words. "Hide, Hermione. Don't come out for any reason. I don't care what you hear. Do not leave this room. I—I'll do my best to get him away from here quickly, but I do not know what he wants."

"All right," I said in a shaky voice.

We dressed together in silence, swiftly putting on our robes in the darkened room, and I pulled Harry's Invisibility Cloak from its place in my drawer.

Severus nodded at me and went to the door, then turned to face me again. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Be safe," I said softly in reply. Then he was gone.

Huddled under the Invisibility Cloak next to the wardrobe once again, my fingers unconsciously traced the line permanently etched across my jugular.

I had calculated that last night was the night we escaped from Malfoy Manor, but could not fathom the reason why Voldemort was here at the castle now as the sun began to peek over the horizon.

If he'd needed Severus or wanted to punish him, why had he not simply called him away as he usually did?

He had reason to punish Severus, I realised: Dobby. The house elf was the one who Apparated us away from the Malfoy's. The house elf who worked for Hogwarts. Hogwarts, where Severus was the headmaster.

But it still did not explain why the Dark Lord was here.

I heard footsteps in Severus's rooms as the room began to lighten with the dawn.

"He's coming, Albus," said Severus in his office. "Do try and hold your tongue for my sake."

"Why, Severus, you act as if I'd purposely send you to slaughter."

"Is that not what you have done all these years? Should I show you the scars?" asked Severus angrily, and then, quickly, lowering his voice, "No matter. Please try not to infuriate the Dark Lord too much."

The rooms were quiet for a long while before I heard footsteps once more. Feeling sick to my stomach, I crouched under the cloak and waited, praying Dumbledore would do as Severus had asked.

"My Lord," said Severus from below. "Did you find what you needed?"

"I did, Severus, I did," said Voldemort, his voice like an icy winter wind, and that was when I realised that tonight must have been the night he stole the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's tomb.

"Ah, Dumbledore, how good to see you there," said Voldemort.

"Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "Still pursuing the wrong path, I see?"

"Is power so wrong, Dumbledore? We are not so different, are we, in our search of it?" asked Voldemort arrogantly. "Yet I seem to have bested you at that as well."

"You fail to understand the heart of things as usual, Tom."

"And yet you lecture me from a portrait," Voldemort hissed. "How does it feel, Dumbledore, to be forced to advise _my_ servant as he sits in your old chair?"

Dumbledore did not answer and I felt a wave of relief even as Voldemort laughed, high and cold.

"See what power you have now!" he chortled icily. "Are you enjoying this office, Severus?"

"Very much, My Lord," said Severus smoothly. My heart ached for him, torn between his two masters. _Not for much longer_ , I thought.

"I am lucky to have such a loyal servant as you, Severus," said Voldemort.

"I live to serve, My Lord." I knew his face would be as blank as if not a single feeling stirred inside him.

"Tell me, Severus, who lives to serve, what do you know of a house elf named Dobby?" Voldemort asked.

"He belonged to the Malfoys," said Severus. "Potter freed him by trickery in his second year."

"That he did," said Voldemort. "And yet I hear that for the past several years, he has been employed here at Hogwarts."

"Yes, My Lord."

"And do you know where Dobby was last night, Severus?"

"I do not, My Lord."

"Our dear Harry Potter and his friends were captured and brought to Malfoy Manor yesterday. And yet, when Bellatrix called me, it seems the elf came and scurried them all safely away."

"I—I am sorry to hear it, My Lord. If I had been there—"

"Ah, but you weren't, Severus," said Voldemort. "And yet the elf was. I am afraid, however, he will not be returning."

"That is excellent news, My Lord."

"Is it, Severus?"

"Yes, My Lord. I only wish that Potter and his friends were dead also. I yearn for your triumph."

There was a pause for several minutes, and then Voldemort spoke again.

"So you do, Severus. So you do. You'll be happy to hear, then, that Potter's Mudblood friend, at least, may not make it. Bellatrix had a little fun with her before I arrived."

"I am pleased to hear it, My Lord."

"And yet I find myself very displeased at Potter's escape," said Voldemort, a sliver of dangerous anger in his tone.

"I am sorry if I have displeased you, My Lord. I will do everything in my power to right it."

"That you will, Severus," said Voldemort coldly. "Crucio!"

My heart leapt into my throat as I heard Voldemort cast the Unforgivable. For several minutes, all I could hear was Severus's limbs thrashing against the floor. Then slowly, he began to groan, and his groan soon became a scream that ripped itself from his lungs.

His screams were like daggers that pierced my heart, and I bit down on my hand to stop myself from sobbing, even as the tears streamed down my face.

I wanted desperately to rip off the cloak and run down the stairs to help Severus. I yearned to blast the daggers from my heart into Voldemort's snake-like face and stop him from tormenting my love. Yet I knew I must remain under the cloak as Severus had commanded. To reveal myself now would put all our hard work and our futures at risk.

And so I listened to him scream under Voldemort's wand, and then to the hoarse coughs when he was finally released from the spell.

"Do we have an understanding, Severus?" asked Voldemort.

"Yes, My Lord," Severus croaked.

"Excellent," said Voldemort. "Come, see me out."

"As you wish, My Lord," said Severus, and I could hear him struggling to his feet. How Voldemort expected Severus to walk to the gates and back after being cursed for so long I had no idea. And yet somehow Severus managed it. His strength was unfathomable.

When I heard Severus return to his rooms thirty minutes later, I already had a selection of healing potions waiting on the coffee table.

I stood shaking near the door, listening to his footsteps stride across the room and up the stairs. They sounded firm and even, and I hoped that meant he was not seriously injured.

The door swung open in front of me, revealing Severus's tall form. His face was pale, his eyes wide, and my eyes quickly travelled over his form to check for blood, finding none.

"You're okay?" I asked breathlessly.

Severus strode forward, long fingers grasping my chin and forcing my head sideways, revealing the length of my neck and jaw.

_The scar_ , I quickly realised.

"Bellatrix did this," he said icily.

"Yes," I replied. He dropped his fingers from my face and stood in front of me, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes flickering across my face.

"Show me," he said smoothly, and I knew he was asking to see what had happened.

"No, Severus," I stammered nervously. What benefit was there to showing him my torture?

"Show me," he demanded more firmly.

"Fine," I said, looking him in the eyes and trying to remember that night at Malfoy Manor.

"Legilimens!"

As Severus delved into my mind, the memory came forward, playing in front of my eyes like a movie, and I tried to force myself to stay calm.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback," said Narcissa, as I stood bound next to Harry, Ron, Dean and Griphook.

"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply, her eyes wide and mad. "All except… except for the Mudblood."

I heard Greyback grunt in pleasure and a shudder of terror went through my body, knowing what was to come. I was going to be tortured, probably killed, possibly raped by Greyback. I did not want to die. But somehow my body was frozen; I was unable to speak, unable to move.

"No!" shouted Ron next to me. "You can have me, keep me!"

I was so frozen in fear, I didn't even flinch when Bellatrix hit him across the face with a loud, echoing thud.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she spat. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing to them — yet."

I managed a quiet whimper when I was cut free with a silver knife and Bellatrix grabbed me by my curls, dragging me into the middle of the room. It felt like my scalp was going to rip from my skull, she was pulling so hard, and I fell onto my knees when she let me go.

"How did you get into my vault?" she said, her eyes wild and rolling, shaking her wand at me, the knife in her other hand.

I knew I had to keep my mouth shut. I had to protect Harry and Ron. I had to protect our mission.

"Let's loosen your filthy tongue, shall we?" she hissed. "Crucio!"

The pain was practically unbearable. It felt like every nerve, every cell in my body was on fire, and I twitched uncontrollably on the floor, my limbs flailing. I couldn't stop the scream that ripped itself from my lungs.

I was vaguely aware of Ron calling my name as I writhed on the floor, and I clung to his voice with my mind.

When the curse stopped, I lay on the carpet. My body ached, but I was determined now: I would not tell Bellatrix the truth. I would die in Malfoy Manor before I betrayed my friends.

"Tell me how you got into my vault!"

"We didn't go to your vault!" I yelled.

"Don't lie to me, Mudblood! Tell me how you got inside my vault!"

"We didn't! We've never been there, I swear!"

I thought Bellatrix would continue screaming, but her mouth twisted into an insane, toothless smile and she bent over my body, waving her silver knife in front of my face. I looked past the knife and into her eyes. I was not going to flinch. I was not going to let her win.

"You are a liar," she hissed. "The truth, now!"

I said nothing, but continued to stare at her gaunt face. Her large eyes looked like a rabid, hungry dog's, and all I could feel was a deep pity for the deranged witch.

"You are a lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault in Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

With a swift motion she drew her knife downwards, slicing across my chest at the same time as she flicked her wand to release another curse. Again, I screamed, the cut not even a thought as I thrashed against the floor.

"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth, or I swear I shall run you through with this knife!"

"We didn't take anything," I said hoarsely.

She was spitting mad now, and didn't wait before slashing across my breast and sending a swirl of blue light that made my arms and legs feel like they were being pulled from their sockets. The pain was unbearable, and I thought for sure my body was going to break against the pressure.

She only released me for a moment, screaming "What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!" before I was writhing on the floor again.

I struggled to open my eyes, to pay attention to what she was saying. I was desperate to stop the pain, but I had to last as long as possible, or else Ron would be next.

_Think, Hermione_ , I told myself, _think! Do it or your friends are dead!_

"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?" shouted Bellatrix, pacing in a circle around me as I lay crumpled on the floor.

"We only met him tonight!" I choked. "We've never been inside your vault… it isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

I didn't know where the lie came from, but I grabbed it hard, praying she would believe me.

"A copy? Oh, a likely story!"

A male voice came then, but I could not see who it was, my vision blurring as if I stared at the world through three feet of water. But I saw Bellatrix's raven form pause as the man said, "But we can find out easily! Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not."

_The goblin! No! If he told them the—_

But I didn't have time to finish my thought before Bellatrix had flicked her wand at me once more, sending me into another spiral of pain. My head and limbs rattled against the ground, and I felt myself slipping away.

Stay awake, Hermione! You have to live. Think of Harry and Ron. They need you, Hermione. Pay attention!

I could no longer move my limbs, and my vision swam as I attempted to open my eyes. I finally forced my eyelids open when I heard the shuffling of feet from across the room. I couldn't see who it was, but knew it must be Draco bringing Griphook back from the dungeons to examine the sword.

I forced myself to turn my head, though the pain in my neck was excruciating, and I found the goblin. Bellatrix was yelling at him to examine the sword and confirm if it was a fake.

"Tell the truth, goblin! Is it a fake or not?" she shouted.

Griphook glanced at me and I stared back at him with wide eyes, praying he would get my unspoken message.

_Please_ , I begged, unable to speak. _Please, please tell them it's a fake._

"Now!" shrieked Bellatrix, slashing her wand through the air so that a cut exploded on the goblin's chest.

The glittering silver sword suddenly appeared in Griphook's long fingers, and there was a loud bang from somewhere below.

"What was that?" came the man's voice again, and this time I realised it was Lucius Malfoy. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?"

"Draco—no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!" ordered Bellatrix.

I hadn't realised so many people were in the room. My terror and then the pain had narrowed my focus to the deranged witch who held the wand and knife towards me and the goblin who held my life in his hands along with the Sword of Gryffindor.

My vision was blurring fiercely now, as if I was watching static on TV. My arms and chest ached where Bellatrix had cut me, and my nerves still felt as if they were being held over hot coals.

I put all my will into my hearing, determined to find out if Griphook would confirm my lie.

If I had not been so weak, I would have cried when he said, "No. It is a fake."

I let my eyes slip closed when he confirmed it a second time at Bellatrix's request, and I heard him grunt before Bellatrix shouted, "And now we call the Dark Lord!"

Panic rose inside me at those words, but I could not seem to force my eyes open again.

_We need to destroy the Horcruxes first! Awake, Hermione, awake!_

"And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" came a shout, followed by several others.

_Ron! Harry!_

I could hear shouts and bangs, the casting of spells, and then I was hoisted roughly upward, my limbs dangling weakly. For a blessed moment I believed it to be Ron or Harry coming to my rescue, but then a piece of cold metal was pressed against my throat, a line of pain welling beneath it, and then I was falling to the floor. Suddenly, there was nothing.

The memory faded from my vision to be replaced with Severus's face. He looked livid; his jaw flexed dangerously and a vein throbbed in his forehead, his black eyes piercing into mine.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he hissed.

"I couldn't, Severus," I said, tears dribbling down my cheeks, though I didn't know when I'd begun to cry. "It wasn't important."

"Wasn't important?" Severus asked furiously. " _Wasn't important_? You were almost killed!"

"But I wasn't!" I yelled, trying to force myself back to the present.

Severus seethed in front of me. For a moment I thought he might scream, but then he twirled in a billow of ominous black robes, his long strides marching back and forth in a semicircle through the room.

"Your other scars, are they all from her?" he spat as he crossed in front of me.

I swallowed and took a breath in an attempt to right myself, and focused on his billowing black form.

"No," I said. "The long one on my back is from Dolohov, from the end of fifth year. Some are from later."

He followed this quickly with another question: "What happened after you blacked out?"

"Why does it matter, Severus? I survived," I cried. It was bad enough he'd made me watch the memory again. I didn't want to dwell on how much it hurt, what might have happened if Griphook had said the sword was real, or if Ron had not come bursting to my rescue when he did. Most likely I'd be dead. I didn't want to tell him about the first few days at Shell Cottage. I'd moved on since then; there were more important things that needed my attention.

"It matters!" Severus screamed, his eyes wide, cloak billowing out behind him in waves. "You were tortured, Hermione! It matters!"

"I was tortured and I survived! I survived, Severus! That's what matters!" I shouted.

"It's not all that matters!"

"Yes it is! You know it is!" I screamed. "You've been tortured too! You deal with it! You move on!"

"YOU NEVER MOVE ON!"

Severus stopped pacing, twirling in place and gliding towards me. He stopped at arms length and bent forward so we were face to face.

"You never move on," he hissed between clenched teeth. "It never goes away! Do not lie to me!"

"I—" I stammered, realising that once again he was talking about himself. He always seemed so calm about his beatings from Voldemort; it never occurred to me that he was so affected by them.

I took his face in my hands, allowing my breath to still and attempting to force my love through my fingers and eyes. "I understand, Severus. I know it's impossible to forget. Every time you look in the mirror, every time you get a flashback and see your scars you remember. But you're wrong about moving on. After this, you are going to move on, Severus."

Severus attempted to shake his head, but I held it firmly in my hands.

"No buts, Severus," I said firmly. "Come to the couch and tell me about our house."

I dropped my grip and he followed me to the sofa, where I curled up next to him. His arm around me, he began to describe our house in detail.

"It has a large kitchen with tall windows that look out onto the garden…"


	22. The End is the Beginning is the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A couple of you wondered about Voldemort visiting Snape at Hogwarts in the last chapter. This is actually canon (it's the night Voldybutt steals the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's tomb). I did my best to stay loyal to canon as we see it in DH. I don't consider this fic AU; from Harry's perspective, which is what we see in the books, nothing would change (though epilogue ignored, obviously). Something to keep in mind as we continue forward viewing some canon scenes the next couple chapters. Of course, anything you recognize belongs to JKR.
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta AdelaideArcher, and to all of you, my readers, for your support.

**Chapter 22: The End is the Beginning is the End**

Six weeks quickly turned into five, and five into three, and before long it was April 30, and tomorrow the battle would begin. Despite the fact that we had spent the the intervening weeks planning, I could not sleep that night.

I clung to Severus's side in bed like a drowning man holds a life preserver, a pit of worry gnawing at my stomach.

_What if this doesn't work? What if this is the last time we ever sleep together? The last time I touch his warm skin?_

Severus too, for his part, seemed as wide awake as I was.

"You should sleep, goddess," he whispered softly while stroking my hair.

"You aren't sleeping either," I mumbled.

"I'm afraid the possibility of this being my last night with you has me feeling rather wide awake," he said. "But you should sleep."

"I told you Severus, if you go my heart goes with you. This is as much my last night as yours," I said defensively, tears welling behind my eyes. I pushed them away, not wanting to turn into a sobbing mess on what might very well be our last night together.

"Don't say that, Hermione. Promise me if this doesn't work, you'll continue on, find someone else, and be happy," said Severus, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"I can't, Severus," I said, a single tear escaping and running against his chest. "I won't live without you. I won't."

Severus lifted my chin with his fingers, and he looked at me intently.

"You _will_ ," he said firmly. "Promise me, Hermione."

My lower lip quivering, I nodded, praying my promise was not needed. Severus dropped my chin, kissed my forehead, and gathered me in his arms.

"Oh, Severus, tell me this will work," I cried.

"It's going to work," he said firmly. "Now go to sleep love. You're not going to get any tomorrow night."

"Don't let me go."

"I won't."

"I love you, Severus."

"I love you too."

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep as we clung to each other beneath the blankets.

* * *

When I awoke Severus was gone. I was shocked that he'd managed to crawl out of bed without waking me, but then we'd stayed up so late last night, talking about what might be—or not be—in the next 24 hours. The tears that I wouldn't allow myself to cry before sleep came quickly, and I sobbed into his pillow, clutching it into folds, breathing in his musky scent with each gasping inhalation.

_He's not gone yet. Get up, Hermione. You're useless to him this way. Get prepared. You're going to save him. You must._

Scrubbing at my face, I pulled myself from our bed, putting on my pyjamas and then padding out into the sitting room. I'd apparently slept in, as my breakfast was cold, a slip of parchment sitting next to my pumpkin juice.

With a shaking hand I picked it up.

_I am sorry to leave you this morning, my love, but I must keep up the pretence of normality. I will see you before day's end, I promise._

_SS_

_Day's end_ , I thought. _Will tonight be the end or the beginning?_

I put the letter aside and reheated my breakfast with a Warming Charm, chewing on a piece of toast while I ran through what I needed for tonight. The list was short: Invisibility Cloak, beaded bag, a selection of potions, and the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. I had my bag packed and the cloak folded next to it in less than 30 minutes. The rest of the contents of the beaded bag were left in a disorganised pile in the bottom of the wardrobe.

"Right," I said with a sigh, my hands on my hips as I stared at the little beaded bag and the cloak on the coffee table. "So I'm ready then."

_Now I wait._

I sat down with a book, not really interested in reading but wanting to distract myself from whatever was happening out there. Harry, Ron, and I would have escaped from Gringott's by now, flying north on the dragon. From what I remembered, nothing would happen until sunset. That's when Voldemort would find out we'd taken his Horcrux, and we'd go to Hogsmeade.

_So I just need to waste eight hours. Right. No problem._

Not sure what else to do, I stuck to my routine, reading, exercising, and practicing spells to pass the time. I was on the couch when Severus returned from dinner and I heard his footsteps from below.

My heart thrummed in my chest, book forgotten on the floor, and I perched on my knees, my palms against the armrest as I leaned towards the door expectantly.

His face looked sour when he came into the room, and I gave him a wan smile.

"Hi," I said softly, to which he nodded. He strode over and sat down next to me with an exhausted thud.

"How was your day?" I asked, not sure what else to say. 'Ready to fake your own death later?' didn't seem like the question to greet him with.

Severus sighed, his face completely void of emotion, but he stuck an arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. I kissed his cheek.

"You have everything you need?" he asked.

"On the table there," I said, motioning with my chin.

"How long do we have?"

"Until sunset. So an hour or two." I knew he must be nervous to be confirming this; we'd discussed it at length over the past six weeks: the timing of everything, how I would get to the Shrieking Shack, what we would do afterwards. We both knew every detail.

"And then Potter and you…"

"We'll come," I said, finishing his thought. "And I'll be waiting for you after, I promise."

Severus shook his head as if banishing an unwanted thought, his hair waving across his cheeks.

"Then we should act normally until the time comes," he said, waving his wand and summoning our tea set.

"You're ready?" I asked. With a sneer, Severus stuck out his tongue, glass pill balanced on the tip.

"Right," I said, straightening. "I'll get our tea then."

We settled down to reading, and though I was not a Legilimens, I had a feeling neither of us took in a word. I pressed myself into Severus's side, book balanced in my lap, concentrating instead on the warmth that radiated from his body, the strength in his narrow form. Every so often I would glance up to the window, judging the brightness of the sky. The window faced east, and soon it was twilight.

It was dark when there was a pop in the room, and a house elf appeared before us. Severus rose instantly beside me, his wand drawn at the quivering beast with its large, globe-like eyes, while I sat frozen, unsure what to do. Elves did not normally appear in the room unless Severus called for one, and Severus certainly did not normally draw his wand on them.

"Headmaster S-Snape," squeaked the elf. "I has a message, sirs."

"Who is your master, elf?" hissed Severus.

"The House of Malfoy, sirs," he said, bowing so low his long nose nearly touched the ground. My eyes went wide, and Severus flicked his gaze towards me momentarily before turning back to the elf.

"This is my guest, Miss Parkinson," he said carefully, gesturing towards me with his free hand. "Now, the message."

"Yes, sirs. The D-Dark Lord says that P-Potter is to come tonight to Hogwarts, sirs, and that Headmaster S-Snape is to guard Ravenclaw Tower."

_So he did warn Severus we were coming_ , I thought.

"Why Ravenclaw Tower?"

"I do not knows, sirs."

"Very well," said Severus darkly. "Tell the Dark Lord it will be done."

The elf bowed low once more and then disappeared with another pop. The moment he was gone, Severus turned to me, pinching the crease between his eyes.

"Let us hope no one thinks to ask if I had a guest, or if they do, what Miss Parkinson looks like," he said finally, releasing his hand and looking up at me. "What's in Ravenclaw Tower?"

"Nothing," I said. It was the truth: the Horcrux wasn't there; it was in the Room of Requirement.

"The Dark Lord would not have me guard nothing," said Severus smoothly. "Nor would Potter come for nothing."

"There is something in the castle," I admitted. "I'm sorry, Severus, I promised I wouldn't tell you."

"Even now?"

"I _promised_ , Severus. I don't know if it will change anything," I said anxiously. "Please, let's not fight now. I promise I will tell you as soon as we return."

Severus frowned, his nostrils flaring angrily, and then he sighed.

"Very well," he said, pocketing his wand. "I'm afraid I must go."

"Okay," I said quietly, and attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat.

Severus turned to leave, and then paused by the door. In a swirl of robes, he strode back to me, put his hand in my hair, and kissed me hard on the mouth, leaving me breathless.

"I love you," he said quietly. "Be safe."

"I love you too," I said. "I'll see you in the shack."

Severus gave a curt nod, and strode from the room, no doubt to find the Carrows.

As soon as Severus was gone, I threw on the Invisibility Cloak, pocketed my beaded bag full of supplies, and headed out the door behind him. We'd decided that as soon as Severus left, I would too in order to give me the best chance to travel undetected.

The castle was quiet as I slipped past the gargoyle at the entrance to Severus's office, the battle not yet begun and students tucked into their common rooms for what they believed to be another average night.

Except for a close run-in with Mrs. Norris, I saw no one on my way out of the castle. I quickly made my way across the grounds towards the Whomping Willow and slipped into the secret passage that would take me to the shack.

_Were we in Hogsmeade yet? Would I hear the Caterwauling Charm from the Shrieking Shack?_

Pushing the thoughts of outside from my mind, I moved down the long, narrow passage as quickly as possible, finally emerging into the dirty, ramshackle room at the end, with its peeling grey wallpaper and boarded windows.

The room was dark and I lit my wand. I knew that Voldemort would try to kill Severus in this room, but where was I to hide? There was no furniture in the room except a single small table near one wall and a stack of crates in the corner nearest the tunnel.

I supposed the crates would have to do. I took off the cloak and began moving the wooden boxes, placing one in front of the tunnel entrance where I knew it Harry would need it to hide behind, and hoping it would keep Voldemort or anyone else from discovering my hiding place behind the others.

It didn't take long to create a semicircle of crates in the corner, leaving space behind them for me to hide and a small gap between two of them so I could see most of the room. Putting the cloak back over me, I put out my wand light and settled down to wait.

I never did hear the Caterwauling Charm from Hogsmeade, but it couldn't have been an hour before there was a splintering crack and the window across from me was blown inwards, a green and silver swirling mass coming through behind it.

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming as Lord Voldemort formed in front of me along with his snake, encased in a silvery bubble of protection. It was only the second time I'd seen him in the flesh, and never so close as this, and the view was frightening: he stood tall, as snakelike as Harry had described him to me, his red slitted eyes glowing in the darkened room.

An oil lamp that hung from the far wall sputtered to life, filling the room with an orange glow, which only made Voldemort's skin seem more pallid and scaly.

His eyes flicked to his snake momentarily, and then he conjured a green leather armchair behind the table and sat down. A few moments later a black shape flew in through the open window to Voldemort's left, and once again I had to bite my tongue as the man I loved appeared in front of me.

_Oh, Severus. Please be careful._

"My Lord," he said, going to his knees, his lank hair falling in front of his face.

"Why have you abandoned your post, Severus?" asked Voldemort in a high, clear voice.

"My Lord, you were correct. Potter has come," he said, his face expressionless, and I marvelled at his self-control. "The teachers and students are building their defences. I apologise, my Lord. I was unable to apprehend the boy before being driven off."

"No matter," said Voldemort, his voice cold. "The Carrows?"

"Captured, my Lord, or dead," he said.

Voldemort gave no impression what he thought about this, only waving his hand for Severus to rise, which he did, his hair still blocking his profile from my view.

"Tell my Death Eaters to strike at midnight if they do not hear from me further, but to go to the forest if I call them again. You may fight with them for now," said Voldemort.

"As you command, my Lord," said Severus, who began to turn away.

"Severus," said Voldemort, interrupting his escape.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Tell Lucius to come to me," he said.

"My Lord," Severus said with a nod of his head, and then he was gone in a swirl of black robes, flying through the window into the night.

_Be safe, my love._

"It is time, Nagini, for us to make our first strike," said Voldemort. With a flick of the Elder Wand towards his throat, he began to speak, and I could hear his voice echoing beyond the shack, knew it was being heard inside Hogwarts as clear as if he had been standing in the Great Hall.

"I know that you are preparing to fight," he said. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

He flicked his wand at his throat once more and rose from his seat.

"The fools will fight," he said towards his snake, who hissed from within her bubble. "They will fight and they will fall."

Voldemort began to pace, his cloak trailing behind him on the floor like the tail of a serpent.

He twirled the wand in his long, pale fingers, so much like Severus's, and yet so different. Severus's hands were beautiful: elegant and dextrous, with calloused fingertips. Voldemort's hands were like that of a skeleton wrapped in pale, silvery skin, every knobbly joint visible beneath his translucent flesh.

I heard a loud bang from far away, and knew the battle must have begun. There would be Death Eaters, giants, and Inferi, all storming the castle, shaking it to its core. My fellow students and teachers, the Order, and the DA would be fighting, some of them dying, and somewhere inside were Harry, Ron, and Severus, the three people I loved the most in the world.

As the battle raged on without me, I could see orange flames appear through the window in the distance. All I could do was say a small, silent prayer from my place behind the crates as Voldemort continued to pace in front of me.

A loud crack signalled the arrival of Lucius Malfoy, and I knew instantly when he landed that he had been tortured some time before: his blue robes were slashed and splotched with stains of dried blood and dirt, his face was covered in bruises, and one eye was black and puffy. His once silken hair was dry and unkempt, and the single grey eye I could see was flickering with terror.

"Why did you not come immediately when I called, Lucius?" asked Voldemort. His voice was clear and even, but something told me he was angry.

"M—my Lord, I apologise. I was searching for my s—son," stammered Lucius, his eyes pointed downwards. He fell to his hands and knees, bowing in front of his master.

Voldemort flicked his wand and Lucius was sent sliding with a thud into the corner of the room opposite me, where the light from the lamp barely touched, shrouding him in shadow. Lucius made a soft groan as he hit the wall, and remained in a heap, his limbs splayed outwards, either unwilling or unable to move.

"You disappoint me again, Lucius," said Voldemort. "I thought we discussed this already."

"Y—yes, my Lord. We—we d—did, my Lord," said Lucius, his voice hoarse and shaking. Even with one eye swollen closed he looked terrified.

"And how is Draco, Lucius?" asked Voldemort.

"I—I do not know, my Lord," said Lucius in a whisper, "But he—he is in the castle, I am sure of it. If I could go find him—"

"—You will stay until I say otherwise," said Voldemort with an air of finality, and Lucius nodded dumbly, shrinking back into the darkened corner.

Voldemort began pacing the room once more, still rolling the wand between his fingers. He looked as if he was considering something very hard, his eyes never leaving the pale wooden rod.

_He's deciding what to do about Elder Wand_ , I thought, _and Severus…_

"My Lord," said Lucius after some time. I was surprised he dared to speak at all. "My Lord… please… my son…"

"If your son is dead, Lucius, it is not my fault," said Voldemort, stopping and looking at the man. "He did not come and join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has decided to befriend Harry Potter?"

"No—never," whispered Malfoy.

"You must hope not."

"Aren't—aren't you afraid, my Lord, that Potter might die at another hand but yours?" asked Malfoy nervously. "Wouldn't it be… forgive me… more prudent to call off this battle, enter the castle, and see him y—yourself?"

"Do not pretend, Lucius. You wish the battle to cease so that you can discover what has happened to your son. And I do not need to seek Potter. Before the night is out, Potter will have come to find me."

Voldemort's gaze returned once more to the wand. "Go and fetch Snape," he said.

"Snape, m—my Lord?"

"Snape. Now. I need him. There is a… service… I require from him. Go."

Lucius rose ungracefully to his feet, stumbling forwards, and then Disapparated with a crack.

"It is the only way, Nagini," whispered Voldemort, returning to his chair.

_He's decided_ , I thought from my hiding place behind the crates. _This is it._

I would see Severus again very soon, and we would find out the answer to the questions that had plagued us for the last several weeks: would our plan work? Would Severus live or die?


	23. The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We are almost there, dear readers. Just two more after this. Thank you once again for all your support. I hope this chapter makes up for my cruel cliffhanger in the last.
> 
> Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are mine.

**Chapter 23: The Beginning is the End is the Beginning**

Severus was faster than Lucius in answering Lord Voldemort's call, and flew through the window in a swirl of black robes, landing gracefully on the floor with barely a sound. My legs were asleep where I sat but I didn't dare move, and my heart began beating wildly as he bowed once more, not going to his knees this time, but folding at the waist as if he was a gentleman, one arm bent in front of him.

_The last time. The last time you will ever bow to him. Stay strong, Severus. You can do this, my love._

"My Lord, you asked for me?" he said smoothly, his voice giving nothing away.

"I did indeed," said Voldemort.

Severus said nothing, but his eyes travelled to Nagini as she floated in her starry cage near their master, her body twisted into circles.

"Do you know why I called you, Severus?"

"I do not," said Severus, his face as blank as an eclipse over the face of the moon. "Do you need me to carry a message to my brothers and sisters, my Lord?"

"No, Severus," said Voldemort, twirling his wand in his fingers.

"Then please let me return, my Lord, their resistance is crumbling—"

"—and it is doing so without your help," said Voldemort. "Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there… almost."

_I've heard this before_ , I thought, glancing towards the crate in front of the tunnel, where Harry, Ron and I undoubtedly stood listening.

"Let me find the boy," said Severus. "Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please."

Severus took several strides, moving closer to where I sat behind the crates. I could see his profile, his gaze still focused on Nagini.

_He's waiting for her to strike_ , I realised. _Watching her for the moment he needs to act._

Voldemort rose from his chair, coming around the table to stand in front of Severus.

"I have a problem, Severus," he said softly.

"My Lord?"

Voldemort raised the Elder Wand towards Severus, holding it lightly in his hand.

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

"My—my Lord?" said Severus, his words a question, but his voice monotone. "I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No," said Voldemort. "I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand… no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago."

Voldemort paused, taking a step and twirling the wand in his fingers. "No difference," he said.

Voldemort strode around the room, his footsteps barely echoing on the worn floorboards, Nagini in her bubble hovering by his shoulder.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus… do you know why I have called you back from the battle?"

Severus looked at Nagini once more.

_He knows exactly why_ , I thought, filled with a mixture of anger and fear for what would happen soon. My legs were numb beneath me, but I dared not move, could not stop what was about to happen in front of me.

"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter," said Severus.

"You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

"But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by one other than yourself—"

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends—the more, the better—but do not kill him," said Voldemort, pausing his stride and looking out the open window. "But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him," said Severus, and I could hear the fear creeping into his voice now, a slight tightening of his jaw, but was not sure if anyone else would notice. "But—let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can—"

"I have told you, no!" Voldemort spun in place, his cloak swirling behind him. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely—?"

"—but there is a question, Severus. There is," said Voldemort, his voice calm once more. He slid the Elder Wand through his fingers, his red eyes focused on Severus.

"Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?" he asked.

"I—I cannot answer that, my Lord," said Severus. _Yes, definitely nervous now. Be strong, my love. I'm here._

"Can't you?" said Voldemort. "My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

"I—I have no explanation, my Lord," he said, his eyes never wavering from Nagini.

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

Finally Severus turned to look at Voldemort, blocking my view of his face.

"My Lord—let me go to the boy—" he said.

"All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," whispered Voldemort, no longer twirling the wand in his fingers, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner… and I think I have the answer… Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

"My Lord—"

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master," continued Voldemort. "The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

"My Lord!" Severus yelled, raising his wand, but casting no spells, not even a shield.

"It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort smoothly. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

He swiped the air with his wand and Nagini's cage rolled towards Severus, enveloping his head and shoulders. I swallowed hard and bit my lip as he yelled and Voldemort let out a loud hissing noise.

Severus tried to push the cage away from him as Nagini uncoiled, rising and then striking in a fluid motion, sinking her fangs into Severus's neck. I tasted blood as I bit through my lip in my attempt not to yell, my body flinching in my yearning to go to him, but I stayed in the corner, unable to tear my eyes away from him as he collapsed.

"I regret it," said Voldemort coldly as he turned away. The cage and snake came away from Severus, who fell sideways, blood gushing from his wounds. I prayed we had given him the right amount of antivenin to keep him alive, that the long-acting Blood-Replenisher would stop him from bleeding out on the floor, that the timing of the draught would be right.

Voldemort and Nagini flew from the room towards the castle as Severus lay convulsing on the floor attempting to stop the blood with his hands.

"He… my… e…" he gargled, barely coherent, though I knew it was my name.

_I'm here, my love! I'm here!_

Tears were running silently from my eyes as I heard the crate in front of the tunnel shift, and then Harry appeared from beneath the cloak. I watched Severus grab the front of his robes, pull him close.

"Take… it… Take… it…" he rasped, a terrible gurgling noise coming from his throat, as he began to push the memories to Harry.

Silver and red streamed together over his robes, and I watched as the other me emerged behind Harry, handing him a vial, and then Ron appeared as well.

Harry was busy lifting the memories into the vial, and I noticed Severus shift his head so he stared just beyond Harry's shoulder.

_At me… he's looking at me… I didn't realise…_

His jaw clenched, and then he spoke so softly I could barely hear him. "Look.. at… me…" he whispered, and though the other me looked down on him pitifully, avoiding his eyes as Harry moved in front of him once more, I obeyed from behind the stack of crates.

I stared at him, unblinking, even as his eyes went dead and his hand fell with a dull thunk on the floor.

A piercing, cold voice was suddenly in my ears, and yet I couldn't stop staring at Severus lying lifeless on the floor even as Harry jumped to his feet.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste," said Voldemort.

_Severus. I'm here._

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured…."

_Hang on, my love. Just a little longer._

"… I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

I gripped my wand beneath the Invisibility Cloak as Ron and my other self began to speak to Harry.

_Just a few minutes, Severus. Hang on just a few more minutes._

"Don't listen to him," said Ron.

"It'll be all right," said the other me. "Let's—let's get back to the castle, if he's gone to the Forest we'll need to think of a new plan—"

I allowed myself to breathe as the three of us dropped back into the tunnel, and then I shifted positions, blood rushing into my legs. I couldn't stand, the pins and needles were so bad, so I cast a Silencing Charm and levitated the crate out of the way.

I crawled towards Severus on my hands and knees, determined to reach his side. A pool of blood had formed around his head and shoulders, and I knelt in front of him, my hand shaking as I lifted my wand over his wound and began to sing. My voice was quiet and uneven at first, but as I sang on it became smoother, months of practice slowly seeping into the spell.

_The blood! The blood is receding! Concentrate!_

The pool of crimson was indeed slowly disappearing as I continued to cast. My voice was strong now, and in a few minutes the blood had all but disappeared, the wound on his neck shrunk to a ragged crescent scar and two perfect pink dots.

Putting my wand next to me on the floor, I pulled my beaded bag from my robes and took the potions from inside. I pulled Severus into my lap, cradling his head with one arm against my thighs, my palm against his cheek.

"It's going to be all right, Severus," I said, clutching a bottle of Wiggenweld Potion in my right hand. I uncorked it with my teeth, and then brought it to his mouth, prying it open with my fingers.

I spilled the liquid into his throat, letting it run over my index finger on the way. The vial empty, I let it fall to the floor, and then brought my finger to my lips, painting them with the residual potion on my fingertip.

"Wake up, my love," I whispered, and leaned over him, placing my lips on his mouth, for he was my Sleeping Beauty, and on this night I was his prince.

The first sign of life I felt was a large inhale of breath beneath my lips, and my head shot upwards, a jolt of relief coursing through me.

"Oh, thank Gods! Severus!" I choked, wrapping my arms around him and clutching him to my body. I felt the muscles in his arm twitch and his eyes fluttered open.

"Hermione?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, I'm here, Severus, I'm here," I whispered, reaching for an Invigoration Draught and lifting it to his lips. "Take this, it will make you feel better."

Severus drank it down without complaint, followed by a normal Blood-Replenishing Potion, a Liver Tonic, and an additional antivenin.

"How do you feel, love?" I asked, tracing his cheekbone with my fingers.

"Like I nearly died a few minutes ago," he croaked, a soft smirk forming on his lips. He struggled to push himself up, but he seemed weak, and I shook my head at him.

"Stop, Severus, don't move," I said. I flicked my wand and brought a crate behind us, lying against it and pulling him once more into my arms so his head and torso rested against my chest, his long legs stretched out in front of me.

"We have a while yet until we need to move," I said, gently running my fingers through his hair. "Just rest."

"Thank you," he whispered. I smiled and kissed the top of his head.

"Rest, love," I said. I felt him relax against me, and summoned my beaded bag to my hand, bringing it in front of our bodies.

"Sorry," I said, as I pulled Phineas's portrait from inside, knocking Severus in the chest, but he did not complain. I put the bag aside and rested the picture frame lightly in Severus's lap.

"Phineas," I called. "Phineas!"

The old headmaster stepped into his frame, looking frazzled.

"What do you want? Bit busy up at the castle, you know!" he snapped, and then his eyes went wide. "Oh! Headmaster Snape! But the other portraits… they said you're with You-Know-Who."

I scowled at the man. "He is not," I said. Severus only sighed in my arms.

"Phineas, I will explain later. For now, please listen to Hermione," he said quietly.

"O-of course!" said Phineas.

"Thank you, Phineas," I said. "Can you please go to your portrait in the Headmaster's office and watch for Harry? He's going to use the pensieve. Can you let us know when he leaves? Don't let him see you."

"Yes, of course," he said. "I will let you know! Glad you're all right, Headmaster Snape!" he said, and stepped out of his frame once more.

I put the frame on the floor next to us, and drew Severus further into my arms.

It was time to wait again. At least this time Severus was with me, and he was alive.

* * *

Severus and I sat quietly in the Shrieking Shack for some time. I was desperately tired, and imagined he was too, but forced myself to stay awake, my ears trained for any sound that might indicate someone was coming.

No one did, however, and eventually Phineas returned to his frame, informing us that Harry had vacated Severus's office.

"Are you feeling well enough to stand?" I asked, and Severus nodded, lifting himself into an upright seated position.

I scrambled up behind him, and then stuck out my hand so he could hoist himself to his feet. He was a tad unsteady, but stayed upright, and I smiled.

"You okay there for a second?" I asked, and he nodded once more, so I quickly stuffed Phineas's portrait back into my beaded bag, shoving it into my pocket along with the Invisibility Cloak.

Then I stood in front of Severus and wrapped my arms around him, focusing on the place I'd spent the last eight months. With a soft pop, we returned to Severus's quarters.

I landed us in the bedroom and hustled Severus onto the bed before shutting the door, locking and warding it with as many spells as I could think of, in addition to applying a Silencing Charm so no one could hear us inside.

"Right," I said, turning towards Severus on the bed. He was leaning against the pillows, his face pale and showing dark circles under his eyes.

"Not long now, love, and you can have a proper rest," I promised. Kicking off my shoes, I crawled into bed beside him, resting my head on his chest, smiling as he wrapped his arm around me.

"I think I can tell you now," I said quietly.

"Tell me what?" Severus asked.

"About what Harry, Ron, and I were doing for the past year," I said. Severus said nothing, and so I began.

"Have you heard of Horcruxes?" I asked, feeling Severus's chest expand and he sucked in a breath with a loud hiss that I interpreted as a 'yes'.

"Tom Riddle had seven," I said.

"Seven?" Severus asked, as if barely willing to believe it.

"A ring, his diary, Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Nagini—"

"His snake?"

"Yes, she's the last one to be destroyed," I said. "Tom didn't know, but the last Horcrux he made was—"

"Harry," said Severus sadly.

"Yes, Harry."

Severus's free hand covered his face, his brows scrunching beneath his long fingers, his fingertips digging into his pale flesh. "Dumbledore said Potter had to die… I told him… Gave him the memory… but I didn't know, Hermione… I didn't know…"

"I know, love. It's okay," I said, reaching up and prying his hand away from his face and giving it a squeeze, holding it against his chest and kissing his knuckles. "Harry survives. He's going to kill You-Know-Who at sunrise."

"So the past year, you were hunting Horcruxes?"

"That's right," I confirmed.

"If I had known, I would have tried to help," he said bitterly. "The snake… I could have killed her."

"And then You-Know-Who would have known we were hunting his Horcruxes," I said. "That's why no one could know. He couldn't find out until they were mostly gone."

"So there was a Horcrux at Hogwarts?"

"In the Room of Requirement. It was destroyed by Fiendfyre."

"The others?"

"The diary by Harry in his second year in the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore destroyed the ring, but it cursed him," I said, and Severus took in another long, shuddering breath at this knowledge. "The locket we destroyed with Gryffindor's sword just after Christmas, and the cup with a basilisk fang last night. Neville kills Nagini with the sword soon, and Harry by—"

"—the Dark Lord," said Severus, and I nodded against his chest.

"Are you glad you finally know?" I asked, tilting my head so I could see his face.

"I—I don't know," he said, shaking his head, sending his hair fluttering around his face. "Damaging your soul… it—it hurts more than you can imagine… to do it that many times… it seems impossible."

I sat up abruptly, balancing myself on one hand, the other resting against his chest.

"Your soul is not damaged, Severus," I said firmly.

"But I killed—"

"Do you regret it?" I asked.

"Always… yes," said Severus sadly. "Before I even said the curse." The pain in his eyes was almost unbearable.

"Then your soul is just fine," I said. "Better than fine. You have a beautiful soul, Severus, whole and good."

Severus reached up and traced my cheekbone with his thumb.

"I don't understand how you can have such faith in me," he said quietly, his eyes searching my face in the darkness.

"Why is it so hard to believe? I know you, Severus," I said. "I love you."

"I will never tire of hearing you say that," he said.

"Then I will say it over and over again," I said. "I love you, Severus. I love you."

"And I, you," he whispered, his fingers pressing lightly in my jaw and pulling me towards him.

As our lips met, full of shared affection, there was a loud bang from outside the room around us.

"This is it," I said, sitting up and looking out the window, where the sky was starting to lighten. "The beginning of the end."


	24. Morning Glow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the last official chapter, but don't despair, dear readers: there is still an epilogue to come after this.
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued comments, kudos, and bookmarks. Please leave a comment; I would love to hear what you think! I don't have time to reply to them all, but I promise I read every one.
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta AdelaideArcher, aka the zed killer. Mistakes are mine.

**Chapter 24: Morning Glow**

The final battle banged and burned on without us. Severus and I hid on his four poster; we didn't speak, didn't move, only clung to each other as we watched the sky through the window turn from midnight to indigo to navy and the stars faded slowly into the light.

A quiet filled the room as a gold strip of light appeared on the horizon above the silhouetted hills that surrounded the castle grounds.

I watched for the red glow that would signal Voldemort's demise, remembering the Great Hall filled with light: red, green, and white crashing together in a brilliant burst of magic and death and freedom.

The crimson sky bloomed, and I felt Severus shudder in my arms, his left arm rising between us as he pulled back his sleeve. His eyes widened at the mark, once black, now faded to a faint pink outline, barely visible against his pale flesh.

I kissed the softness there, just over the skull, and then turned my attention to his lips, pressing into them with joy and affection.

"He's gone, my love," I whispered, smiling broadly. "Welcome to the rest of your life."

His fingers traced my jaw, the curve of my upper lip, his eyes dark and searching.

"Our life," he whispered.

His fingers slipped into the hair behind my head and pulled me down, kissing me deeply, his tongue sliding into my mouth. I let out a squeak as stripped us both of our robes with a flick of his wand and then rolled us over so he was resting on top of me, his hips perched between my thighs.

His mouth captured mine once more, and then drew away down my neck, sucking and nibbling over my pulse, across my collarbone, and down my chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. I moaned softly and arched against him as he flicked it with his tongue, my hands digging into his back.

"Inside," I panted, spreading my legs wider and tilting my hips up so my mound brushed against the hard length of his penis. "I want you inside me."

Severus released my nipple with a soft pop, and then slowly guided himself inside me, pausing once he was buried to the hilt.

"I love you," he said with glittering black eyes. I could see it, feel it as his body rested in mind so completely.

"I love you," I replied, my hands resting on his shoulders, and slowly Severus began to move his hips, his cock nudging the soft spot inside me that sent spirals of pleasure in my lower body.

I hummed in rapture as his pace quickened. Gods, he felt so good. So right.

Our eyes were locked together as he stoked the fire within us both, building it steadily into a blaze as the sun rose outside the window, spreading a soft orange glow through the room.

"Stay with me always," he whispered as he rocked against me.

"Yes," I said, my voice low and husky.

He felt incredible. My hands skimmed over his shoulders and down his back, fingers pressing into his flesh, hips tilting backwards a little farther as I pushed him deeper into my core. My mind was blessedly blank, the fire blazing inside me as I quickly approached my climax.

"You're mine," he purred against my lips.

"Yes," I moaned, "yes."

He kissed me deeply, and then gave few deep thrusts, plunging his full length in and out of me in fluid, powerful strokes that sent me into bliss. I was burning, on fire, shuddering beneath him and around him.

"Yes! Oh, Severus, yes!" I called, and his movements did not slow as my orgasm peaked and waned.

"Call me yours," he whispered, still pounding steadily into me.

"You're mine," I said with a smile, tangling my fingers in his hair.

"Yes," he said, his voice like a velvet kiss. "Again."

"You're mine, Severus," I said again, moving my hips in time with his once more.

"Yes," he said, his jaw muscles tight, his breath heavy and coming in puffs against my skin, and I knew he must close.

"We'll be together always," I hummed, feeling my own pleasure building inside me again. "Now come with me, my love. Make me yours."

His hips thrust into me sharply at my encouragement, and I could not help but climax once more, moaning his name and my love. I wrapped my legs around his hips tightly, holding him inside me as I felt him come undone, his seed spilling into me with a final push.

"Yes! Oh, Hermione!" he called loudly, his face screwed up in ecstasy.

Our bodies both spent and sated, he fell lightly against me, panting and coated in a sheen of sweat, and I smiled, my legs still tight about his hips.

"That was a much better victory celebration than last time," I said happily.

* * *

I didn't realise I had fallen asleep until Severus was shaking me lightly next to him. There were voices in my ears, and I blinked sleepily, Severus's face slowly coming into focus.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, yawning. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"No matter, my love," he said, pushing a stray curl behind my ear.

"But Hermione, you can't!" a voice yelled, making me jump.

"You and your friends are downstairs," said Severus, and I nodded, listening.

"I can, Harry. You need to rest, and people will freak out if they find out you've gone," said a bossy voice—my own.

"Then I'll go with you," Ron said. "And we'll save Fred too."

"No, Ron. I know it hurts—It hurts me too—but we can't save Fred. We were all right there when the explosion happened. It's just not possible. And you need to stay with your family Ron."

"Fred Weasley was killed?" asked Severus, talking over Ron's reply.

"Yes," I answered sadly.

"I'm sorry," he said, and I could only nod and give a wan smile. I'd have to remember that I'd had eight months now to deal with what had happened; when Severus and I finally went downstairs, it would still be fresh for the others.

"It makes sense for me to go," the other me was saying downstairs. "I know how to work the Time Turner, I have no family to go home to—don't give me that look Harry, I know you haven't either, but you have the Weasleys—and Professor Dumbledore said one of us."

"Always the know-it-all," Severus said. "But you are not expendable."

_How did he know what I'd been thinking at the time?_

I shrugged, only half-listening to Dumbledore and myself conversing below.

"What happened to your parents?" Severus asked.

"The Order couldn't spare anyone to protect them so I altered their memories so they wouldn't remember me and sent them to Australia," I said, feeling my cheeks colour. _What would he think of what I'd done?_

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Someone should have helped you protect them."

"It's all right," I said. "I just hope they forgive me."

"If they are at all like you, they will," he said, followed by a soft kiss.

"You don't fuck things up, Hermione, it's not in you. You'll do it," Ron said below.

"Shockingly, I find myself agreeing with Mr. Weasley for once," said Severus with a small grin.

Dumbledore was now instructing me how to find the Time Turner, and then it went quiet for a short while, before my voice from below screeched, "Sir, this doesn't go back by hours, but by _months_?"

"Why did you agree to come back?" asked Severus.

"You deserved to live," I answered simply. "I wanted to give you the chance."

"Thank you," said Severus seriously.

"I'm so glad you changed your mind," I said, resting my palm against his cheek. "I don't know what I would have done if you'd died."

Severus titled his head, kissing my wrist.

"It doesn't matter now," he said. "You were successful. I'm alive. I don't intend to go anywhere until I am old and grey."

I could only smile and kiss him in response.

" _Eight months_? Hermione you can't!" Ron shouted from below.

_Eight months. Eight months that changed everything_ , I thought as Dumbledore began reasoning with us below. Severus wrapped one arm around me more tightly, the fingers of his opposite hand twined into my hair next to my neck.

"Once we leave here," asked Severus, "You really won't go?"

"No," I said. "You're stuck with me now too."

Severus let out a relieved sigh, and I kissed him once more.

"Listen, I'm about to leave," I whispered.

"I'll see you soon, Ron, I promise," the other me said from downstairs.

"Take this," said Harry, and I knew he was handing me the Invisibility Cloak that now lay on the dresser beside the bed. "Just promise me you'll return it."

"I promise," I said.

"Sir, I have one more question. How am I supposed to make it look like Professor Snape has died, without him really dying?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Severus will give you that answer."

"Mysterious bastard," hissed Severus.

"Do you hate him for what he did to you?"

"Yes and no," said Severus. "I wish I hadn't had to do all those things, but in the end it was my choice."

"Thank you," I said, brushing my fingers through his fine hair.

"Thank you for believing in me," said Severus.

"One day I hope you'll believe in yourself too," I said, and then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"I think I'm coming upstairs. Be quiet," I whispered, straining my ears.

A soft whooshing noise signalled that I'd opened the door, and then there were several more footsteps as I entered the room. Then it was quiet.

"I think I've left," I said.

"I apologise for the grumpy bastard that meets you on the other side," Severus said quietly.

"Yes, but you're my grumpy bastard," I said, kissing the tip of his nose, making his cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink. I smiled, thinking that I was perhaps the only human alive that knew Severus Snape could blush.

"Shall we go downstairs?" I asked.

"I'd rather stay here with you," said Severus with a grimace.

"Me too, but we need to go sooner or later," I said.

"All right," said Severus. "But I suggest we put on clothing first."

"Probably a good idea," I agreed with a grin.

Quietly we cast Cleansing Charms over ourselves and donned our clothes, listening to Ron and Harry chat below us.

"Do you think she'll come back here?" asked Ron downstairs.

"I expect so," said Harry. "Let's wait a bit. If she doesn't come back soon we can go look in the Shrieking Shack."

"Do you think she… after our kiss… you know, expects us to…?" asked Ron.

"You kissed the dunderhead?" asked Severus incredulously.

"Yes, I had sex with him too," I said matter-of-factly. "It was a long time ago."

Severus shook his head, buttoning up his sleeves.

"You're one to talk," I teased. I walked across the room and took Severus's hand, giving it a squeeze, and kissed him on the cheek.

"I love you, Severus," I said. "Don't forget that."

"It was heat of the moment, yeah? I thought we were going to snuff it. Bloody hell, I don't want to hurt her though," said Ron from downstairs. Apparently Ronald Weasley and I had similar feelings about our kiss. _That's good_ , I thought, looking up at Severus.

"Bloody fool," hissed Severus.

"Be nice," I said. "Are you ready?"

Severus nodded and we made our way through the sitting room. Severus opened the door that would lead us downstairs, the door I had only been through three times over the past eight months.

"I'm going to miss these rooms," I said, pausing before stepping through. I looked back over them: the couches where we'd spent eight months of evenings drinking tea, where I'd first realised my feelings for the man, where he'd taught me to heal, where we'd shared our first scant kiss and our first night of passion, and where we'd figured out how to keep him alive.

I looked up at Severus and smiled. I took a deep breath.

"All right," I said. "Let's go. The rest of our life is calling."

We walked through the door hand in hand, ready for whatever the world would throw at us, knowing that no matter what happened we would tackle it together.

My last thought as we made our way down the stairs was, _I did it!_


	25. Epilogue: In Our House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm afraid the end is really the end with this one.
> 
> I know many of you are disappointed I didn't show Harry and Ron's reaction and what happens next. I did consider writing further, but decided, for the integrity and overall arc of the story, it was best to end it where I did. It is called "In His Rooms," after all. If enough of you ask, I might consider writing a sequel or series of extra scenes to show what happens next, or parts from Severus's perspective. For now, though, I leave you with the epilogue, and a heartfelt thanks for all your comments, kudos and bookmarks left until now and in the future. I knew I had something decent here, but I never expected such an overwhelmingly positive response. Once again, thank you!
> 
> A big thank you also goes to my beta, AdelaideArcher, for bashing my mistakes into submission each chapter. As always, any errors are my own.

**Epilogue: In Our House**

_15 Years Later_

Our large white house sits in a clearing surrounded by forest, the trees warped and windswept from the sea gales that whip up the cliffs at the edge of the property. The smell of the sea is constant here, the fresh salt air a balm to the lungs in every season.

To the south of the house lies a large garden, filled with all manner of ingredients for both food and potions. Next to it stands a red-painted swing. The chains are getting rusty now, the seats well worn from use by our two young children, a boy and a girl, who scream and laugh and beg for their father to push them higher.

The kitchen overlooks the garden, its tall windows letting in light all day. It is the heart of the home, filled with food and love and endless chatter that sends my husband grumbling for peace; yet his bitter words are always softened by a smile and an affectionate sparkle in his depthless black eyes.

This is not my favourite room in our house by the sea, however. That title belong to the study, its walls painted white just as we'd dreamed, rimmed with towering bookcases filled with every sort of tome. Next to a fireplace stands a long sofa and two green velvet chairs, the old portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black hanging handsomely over the mantel.

As has always been our custom, every evening Severus and I come together for tea in this room. In the early years it was after supper, and once the children came after we put them to bed. It is a ritual that has served us well, then and now. Our evenings in front of the fire will always be our time.

When I spun back through time all those years ago, I never imagined the effect it would have on my life. It never occurred to me that I might fall in love, nearly lose my mind to grief, and then give my heart to save a man and ensure our future together. To this day, Severus and I celebrate September 2, the day I arrived in his rooms—"the luckiest day of my life," according to Severus. I think, perhaps, it was the luckiest of mine as well.

For that reason I can't be mad at Dumbledore. He was always the wizard with the plans, placing us like chess pieces in a complicated war. There are those that are bitter—Severus is still of two minds—but in the end Dumbledore was the one that guided us together, ensured our seclusion for eight months, and for that I can only have endless gratitude.

Our lives slowly became easier once the the war was over, but no less complex. Instead of life and death we consider the raising of our children, jobs and finances, birthdays and holidays, meals and health.

But we will always have each other, as bound together and in love as the day we left the Headmaster's Tower hand-in-hand.

It was hard, at first; there were those who could not fathom our love, a Ministry and Hogwarts to rebuild, and Death Eaters to send to Azkaban. We were hounded by the press when all we wanted was privacy; heroes, we were called, though we never felt that way. It was an easy decision to escape to Australia for a month to find my parents, who Severus correctly surmised did forgive me, though they did not return with us to Britain.

Severus decided not to return to Hogwarts, choosing instead to open an Apothecary. The long-acting Blood-Replenishing Potion we invented ended up being a top seller, with St. Mungo's and various infirmaries and clinics requesting it by the crate. I worked at the Ministry for eight years, and then started a consulting company so I could work from home and look after our children.

Severus, despite his insecurities, is a good father and a good husband: loyal, affectionate, and kind. Our life isn't perfect, but we found peace and happiness together, and our love has never wavered.

Every evening in front of the fire, we sit with tea and tomes.

"I love you," I tell him with a smile.

"I love you," he says in return.

Before I turn to reading, I take a moment to watch his long fingers as he caresses his book.

It is my favourite time of day: when the room glows orange by fire or sunset, steam curls from the spout of our silver tea pot, and my love sits next to me in our white-walled study in our house by the sea.

It is everything we ever dreamed of while in his rooms.


End file.
